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It is not enooffh merely to hsre a Muiid mind- 
one must abo learn how to use it, if he would 
become mentally efficient. 



L. N. Fowler & Ca. London. 





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VapytUthimd in the United States and England, 


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What is the Mind ..... 5 

The Mechanism of Mental States 


The Great Nerve Centers 






Memory . 


Memory (continued) 


Imagination . 


The Feelings 


The Emotions 


The Instinctive Emotions 


The Passions 


The Sociai< Emotions 

. 104 

The Reugious Emotions . 

. Ill 

The Esthetic Emotions . 

. 117 

Thr Intellectual Emotions 

. 125 

The Role of the Emotions 

. 131 

The Emotions and Happiness . 

. 136 

. 143 

Conception .... 

. 151 

Classes of Concepts . 

. 158 

Judgments .... 

. 164 

Primary Laws op Thought 

. 171 

Reasoning .... 

. 176 

Inductive Reasoning . 

. 181 

Deductive Reasoning 

. 186 

Fallacious Reasoning 

. 193 

The Wit,i 



. 213 

Will-Tonic . 




What is the Mind? 

PSYCHOLOGY is generally considered to be the 
science of mind, although more properly it is 
the science of mental states — thoughts, feel- 
ings, and acts of volition. It was formerly the custom 
of writers on the subject of psychology to begin by an 
attempt to define and describe the nature of mind, 
before proceeding to a consideration of the subject of 
the various mental states and activities. But more 
recent authorities have rebelled against this demand, 
and have claimed that it is no more reasonable to hold 
that psychology should be held to an explanation of the 
ultimate nature of mind than it is that physical science 
be held to an explanation of the ultimate nature of 
matter. The attempt to explain the ultimate nature of 
either is futile — no actual necessity exists for explana- 
tion in either case. Physics may explain the phenom- 
ena of matter, and psychology the phenomena of mind, 
without regard to the ultimate nature of the substance 
of either. 

The science of physics has progressed steadily during 
the past century, notwithstanding the fact that the 


theories regarding the ultimate nature of matter have 
been revolutionized during that period. The facts. of 
the phenomena of matter remain, notwithstanding the 
change of theory regarding the nature of matter itself. 
Science demands and holds fast to facts, regarding 
theories as but working hypotheses at the best. Some 
one has said that "theories are but the bubbles with 
which the grown-up children of science amuse them- 
selves." Science holds several well-supported, though 
opposing, theories regarding the nature of electricity, 
but the facts of the phenomena of electricity, and the 
application thereof, are agreed upon by the disputing 
theorists. And so it is with psychology; the facts re- 
garding mental states are agreed upon, and methods of 
developing mental powers are eflEectively employed, 
without regard to whether mind is a product of the 
brain, or the brain merely an organ of the mind. The 
fact that the brain and nervous system are employed 
in the phenomena of thought is conceded by all, and 
that is all that is necessary for a basis for the science of 

Disputes regarding the ultimate nature of mind are 
now generally passed over to the philosophers and meta- 
physicians, while psychology devotes its entire attention 
to studying the laws of mental activities, and to dis- 
covering methods of mental development. Even phi- 


losophy is beginning to tire of the eternal "why" and 
is devoting its attention to the ^Tiow" phase of things. 
The pragmatic spirit has invaded the field of philos- 
ophy, expressing itself in the words of Prof. William 
James, who said: "Pragmatism is the attitude of 
looking away from first things, principles, categories, 
supposed necessities; and of looking forward toward 
last things, fruits, consequences, facts/' Modern psy- 
chology is essentially pragmatic in its treatment of the 
subject of the mind. Leaving to metaphysics the old 
arguments and disputes regarding the ultimate nature 
of mind, it bends all its energies upon discovering the 
laws of mental activities and states, and developing 
methods whereby the mind may be trained to perform 
better and more work, to conserve its energies, to con- 
centrate its forces. To modem psychology the mind is 
something to he used, not merely something about 
which to speculate and theorize. While the metaphy- 
sicians deplore this tendency, the practical people of 
the world rejoice. 

Mind Defined. 

Mind is defined as "the faculty or power whereby 
thinking creatures feel, think, and will." This defini- 
tion is inadequate and circular in nature, but this is 
unavoidable, for mind can be defined only in its own 


terms and only by reference to its own processes. Mind, 
except in reference to its own activities, cannot be de- 
fined or conceived. It is known to itself only through 
its activities. Mind without mental states is a mere 
abstraction — ^a word without a corresponding mental 
image or concept. Sir William Hamilton expressed 
the matter as clearly as possible, when he said : "What 
we mean by mind is simply that which perceives, thinks, 
feels, wills, and desires." Without the perceiving, 
thinking, feeling, willing, and desiring, it is impos- 
sible to form a clear conception or mental image of 
mind; deprived of its phenomena it becomes the merest 

'Think About That Which Thinks." 

Perhaps the simplest method of conveying the idea 
of the existence and nature of the mind is that attrib- 
uted to a celebrated German teacher of psychology who 
was wont to begin his course by bidding his students 
think of something, his desk, for example. Then he 
would say, "Now think of that which thinks about the 
desk/' Then, after a pause, he would add, "This thing 
which thinks about the desk, and about which you are 
now thinking, is the subject matter of our study of 
psychology." The professor could not have said more 
had he lectured for a month. 


Professor Gordy has well said on this point: "The 
mind must either be that which thinks, feels, and wills, 
or it must be the thoughts, feelings, and acts of will 
of which we are conscious — ^mental facts, in one word. 
But what can we know about that which thinks, feels, 
and wills, and what can we find out about it? Where 
is it? You will probably say, in the brain. But, if 
you are speaking literally, if you say that it is in the 
brain, as a pencil is in the pocket, then you must mean 
that it takes up room, that it occupies space, and that 
would make it very much like a material thing. In 
truth, the more carefully you consider it, the more 
plainly you will see what thinking men have known 
for a long time — that we do not know and cannot learn 
anything about the thing which thinks, and feels, and 
wills. It is beyond the range of human knowledge. 
The books which define psychology as the science of 
mind have not a word to say about that which thinks, 
and feels, and wills. They are entirely taken up with 
these thoughts and feelings and acts of the will, — 
mental facts, in a word, — trying to tell us what they 
are, and to arrange them in classes, and tell us the cir- 
cumstances or conditions under which they exist. It 
seems to me that it would be better to define psychology 
as the science of the experiences, phenomena, or facts of 
the mind, soul, or self^-of mental facts, in a word." 


In view of the facts of the case, and following the 
example of the best of the modem authorities, in this 
book we shall leave the consideration of the question 
of the ultimate nature of mind to the metaphysicians, 
and shall confine ourselves to the mental facts, the laws 
governing them, and the best methods of governing 
and using them in "the business of life." 

The classification and method of development to be 
followed 4n this book is as follows : — 

I. The mechanism of mental states, i. e., the brain, 
nervous system, sense organs, etc. 

II. The fact of Consciousness and its planes. 

III. Mental processes or faculties, L e,, (1) Sensa- 
tion and Perception; (2) Eepresentation, or Imagina- 
tion and Memory; (3) Feeling or Emotion; (4) 
Intellect, or Eeason and Understanding; (5) Will or 

Mental states depend upon the physical mechanism 
for manifestation, whatever may be the ultimate nature 
of mind. Mental states, whatever their special char- 
acter, will be found to fit into one of the above five 
general classes of mental activities. 


The Mechanisin of Mental States. 

THE mechanism of mental states — the mental 
machinery by means of which we feel, think, 
and will — consists of the brain, nervous system, 
and the organs of sense. No matter what may be the 
real nature of mind, — ^no matter what may be the 
theory held regarding its activities, — it must be ad- 
mitted that the mind is dependent upon this mechanism 
for the manifestation of what we know as mental states. 
Wonderful as is the mind, it is seen to be dependent 
upon this physical mechanism for the expression of its 
activities. And this dependence is not upon the brain 
alone^ but also upon the entire nervous system. 

The best authorities agree that the higher and more 
complex mental states are but an evolution of simple 
sensation, and that they are dependent upon sensation 
for their raw material of feeling and thought. There- 
fore it is proper that we begin by a consideration of the 
machinery of sensation. This necessitates a previous 
consideration of the nerves. 

The Nerves. 

The body is traversed by an intricate system of 


nerves, which has been likened to a great telegraph 
system. The nerves transmit sensations from the vari- 
ous parts of the body to the great receiving office of 
the brain. They also serve to transmit the motor im- 
pidses from the brain to the various parts of the body, 
which impulses result in motion of appropriate parts 
of the body. There are also other nerves with which 
we have no concern in this book, but which perform 
certain physiological functions, such as digestion, secre- 
tion, excretion, and circulation. Our chief concern, at 
this point, is with the sensory nerves. 

The sensory nerves convey the impressions of the 
' outside world to the brain. The brain is the great cen- 
tral station of the sensory nerves, the latter having 
countless sending stations in all parts of the body, the 
^Vires'^ terminating in the skin. When these nervous 
terminal stations are irritated or excited, they send to 
the brain messages calling for attention. This is true 
not only of the nerves of touch or feeling, but also of 
those concerned with the respective senses of sight, 
smell, taste, and hearing. In fact, the best authorities 
hold that all the five senses are but an evolution of the 
primary sense of touch or feeling. 

The Sense of Touch. 
The nerves of the sense of touch have their ending 


in the outer covering or skin of the body. They report 
contact with other physical objects. By means of these 
reports we are aware not only of contact with the out- 
side object, but also of many facts concerning the 
nature of that object, as, for instance, its degree of 
hardness, roughness, etc., and its temperature. Some 
of these nerve ends are very sensitive, as, for example, 
those of the tip of the tongue and finger ends, while 
others are comparatively lacking in sensitiveness, as, 
for illustration, those of the back. Certain of these sen- 
sory nerves confine themselves to reporting contact and 
degrees of pressure, while others concern themselves 
solely with reporting the degrees of temperature of the 
objects with which their ends come in contact. Some 
of the latter respond to the higher degrees of heat, 
while others respond only to the lower degrees of cold. 
The nerves of certain parts of the body respond more 
readily and distinctly to temperature than do those of 
other parts. To illustrate, the nerves of the cheek are 
quite responsive to heat impressions. 

The Sense of Sight. 

The nerves of the sense of sight terminate in the 
complex optical apparatus which in popular terminol- 
ogy is known as ^Hhe eye." What is known as "the 
retina" is a very sensitive nervous membrane which 


lines the inner, back part of the eye, and in which the 
fibers of the optic nerve terminate. The optical instru- 
ment of the eye conveys the focused light vibrations to 
the nerves of the retina, from which the impulse is 
transmitted to the brain. But, contrary to the popular 
notion, the nerves of the eye do not gauge distances, nor 
form inferences of any kind ; that is distinctly the work 
of the mind. The simple oflSce of the optical nerves 
consists in reporting color and degrees of intensity of 
the light waves. 

The Sense of Hearing. 

The nerves of the sense of hearing terminate in the 
inner part of the ear. The tympanum, or "ear drum," 
receives the sound vibrations entering the cavities of the 
ear, and, intensifying and adapting them, it passes them 
on to the ends of the auditory nerve in the internal 
ear, which conveys the sensation to the brain. The 
auditory nerve reports to the brain the degrees of pitch, 
intensity, quality, and harmony, respectively, of the 
sound waves reaching the tympanum. As is well known, 
there are certain vibrations of sound which are too low 
for the auditory nerve to register, and others too high 
for it to record, both classes, however, capable of 
being recorded by scientific instruments. It is also 
regarded as certain that some of the lower animals are 


conficious of sound vibrations which are not registered 
by the human auditory nerves. 

The Sense of Smell. 

The nerves of the sense of smell terminate in the 
mucous membrane of the nostrils. In order that these 
nerves report the odor of outside objects, actual contact 
of minute particles of the object with the mucous mem- 
brane of the nostrils is necessary. This is possible only 
by the passage through the nostrils of air containing 
these particles; mere nearness to the nostril will not 
suffice. These particles are for the most part composed 
of tenuous gases. Certain substances affect the olfac- 
tory nerves much more than do others, the difference 
arising from the chemical composition of the substance. 
The olfactory nerves convey the report to the brain. 

The Sense of Taste. 

The nerves of the sense of taste terminate in the 
tongue, or rather in the tiny cells of the tongue which 
are called "taste buds." Substances taken into the 
mouth chemically affect these tiny cells, and an impulse 
is transmitted to the gustatory nerves, which then re- 
port the sensation to the brain. The authorities claim 
that taste sensations may be reduced to five general 
classes, viz.: sweet, bitter, sour, salty, and ^*hot.'^ 


There are certain nerve centers having important 
ofl&ces in the production and expression of mental states, 
located in the skull and in the spinal column — ^the 
brain and the spinal cord — ^which we shall consider in 
the following chapter. 


The Great Nerve Centers. 

THE great nerve centers which play an important 
part in the production and expression of men- 
tal states are those of the brain and spinal 
cord, respectively. 

The Spinal Cord, 

The spinal cord is that cord or rope of nerve sub- 
stance which is inclosed in the spinal column or "back- 
bone.^^ It leaves the lower part of the skull and extends 
downward in the interior of the spinal column for 
about eighteen inches. It is continuous with the brain, 
however, and it is difficult to determine where one begins 
and the other ends. It is composed of a mass of gray 
matter surrounded by a covering of white matter. From 
the spinal cord, along its length, emerge thirty-one 
pairs of spinal nerves which branch out to each side of 
the body and connect with the various smaller nerves, 
extending to all parts of the system. The spinal 
cord is the great central cable of the nervous tele- 
graphic system, and any injury to or obstruction of it 
cripples or paralyzes those portions of the body the 


nerves of which enter the spinal cord below the seat of 
the injury or obstruction. Injuries or obstructions of 
this kind not only inhibit the sensory reports from the 
affected area, but also inhibit the motor impulses from 
the brain which are intended to move the limbs or 
parts of the body. 

The Ganglia oe "Tiny Brains/' 

What are known as ganglia, or tiny bunches of nerve 
cells, are found in various parts of the nervous system, 
including the spinal nerves. These groups of nerve 
cells are sometimes called *^ttle brains,'^ and perform 
quite important offices in the mechanism of thought and 
action. The spinal ganglia receive sensory reports, and 
issue motor impulses, in many cases, without troubling 
the central brain regarding the matter. These activi- 
ties are known as "reflex nervous action.^' 

Ebflex Action. 

What is known as reflex nervous action is one of the 
most wonderful of the activities of the nervous and 
mental mechanism, and the knowledge thereof usually 
comes as a surprise to the average person, for he is 
generally under the impression that these activities 
are possible only to the central brain. It is a fact that 
not only is the central brain really a trinity of three 


brains, but that, in addition to these, every one has a 
great number of ^^ittle brains" distributed over his 
nervous system, any and all of which are capable of 
receiving sensory reports and also of sending forth 
motor impulses. It is quite worth while for one to 
become acquainted with this wonderful form of neuro- 
mental activity. 

A cinder enters the eye, the report reaches a gan- 
glion, a motor impulse is sent forth, and the eyelid 
closes. The same result ensues if an object approaches 
the eye but without actually entering it. In either 
case the person is not conscious of the sensation and 
motor impulse until the latter has been accomplished. 
This is reflex action. The instinctive movement of the 
tickled foot is another instance. The jerking away of 
the hand burnt by the lighted end of the cigar, or 
pricked by the point of the pin, is another instance. 
The involimtary activities, and those known as uncon- 
scious activities, result from reflex action. 

More than this, it is a fact that many activities 
originally voluntary become what is known as "ac- 
quired reflexes," or "motor habits," by means of certain 
nervous centers acquiring the habit of sending forth 
certain motor impulses in response to certain sensory 
reports. The familiar movements of our lives are 
largely performed in this way, as, for instance, walk- 


ing, using knife and fork, operating typewriters, ma- 
chines of all kinds, writing, etc. The squirming of a 
decapitated snake, the muscular movements of a de- 
capitated frog, and the violent struggles, fluttering, 
and leaps of the decapitated fowl, are instances of 
reflex action. Medical reports indicate that in cases 
of decapitation even man may manifest similar reflex 
action in some cases. Thus we may see that we may 
feel and will by means of our ^^ittle brains" as well 
as by the central brain or brains. Whatever mind may 
be, it is certain that in these processes it employs other 
portions of the nervous system than the central brain. 

The Three Brains. 

What is known as the brain of man is really a trinity 
of three brains, known respectively as (1) the medulla 
oblongata, (2) the cerebellum, and (3) the cerebrum. 
If one wishes to limit the mental activity to conscious 
intellectual effort, then and then only is he correct in 
considering the cerebrum or large brain as "the brain." 

The Medulla Oblongata. — The medulla oblongata is 
an enlargement of the spinal cord at the base of the 
brain. Its oflBce is that of controlling the involuntary 
activities of the body, such as respiration, circulation, 
assimilation, etc. In a broad sense, its activities may 
be said to be of the nature of highly developed and com- 


plex reflex activities. It manifests chiefly through the 
sympathetic nervous system which controls the vital 
functions. It does not need to call on the large brain 
in these matters, ordinarily, and is able to perform its 
tasks without the plane of ordinary consciousness. 

The Cerebellum, — ^The cerebellum, also known as 
"the little brain," lies just above the medulla oblon- 
gata, and just below the rear portion of the cere])rum 
or great brain. It combines the nature of a purely 
reflex center on the one hand, with that of *^abit 
mind" on the other. In short, it fills a place between 
the activities of the cerebrum and the medulla oblon- 
gata, having some of the characteristics of each. It is 
the organ of a number of important acquired reflexes, 
such as walking, and many other familiar muscular 
movements, which have first been consciously acquired 
and then become habitual. The skilled skater, bicy- 
clist, typist, or machinist depends upon the cerebellum 
for the ease and certainty with which he performs his 
movements "without thinking of them." One may be 
said never to have thoroughly acquired a set of mus- 
cular movements such as we have mentioned, until the 
cerebellum has taken over the task and relieved the 
cerebrum of the conscious effort. One^s technique is 
never perfected until the cerebellum assumes control 
and direction of the necessary movements and the im- 


pulses are sent forth from below the plane of ordinary 

The Cerebrum. — The cerebrum, or "great brain" 
(which is regarded as "the brain" by the average per- 
son), is situated in the upper portion of the skull, and 
occupies by far the larger portion of the cavity of the 
skull. It is divided into two great divisions or hemi- 
spheres. The best of the modern authorities are agreed 
that the cerebrum has zones or areas of specialized 
functioning, some of which receive the sensory reports 
of the nerves and organs of sense, while others send 
forth the motor impulses which result in voluntary 
physical action. Many of these areas or zones have 
been located by science, while others remain as yet 
unlocated. The probability is that in time science will 
succeed in correctly locating the area or zone of each 
and every class of sensation and motor impulse. 

The Cortex. 

The area of thought, memory, and imagination has 
not been clearly located, except that these mental states 
are believed to have their seat in the cortex or outer 
thin rind of gray brain matter which envelopes and cov- 
ers the mass of brain substance. It is, moreover, consid- 
ered probable that the higher processes of reasoning are 
performed in or by the cortex of the frontal lobes. The 


cortex of a person of average intelligence, if spread out 
on a flat surface, measures about four square feet. The 
higher the degree of intelligence possessed by a lower 
animal or himian being, as a rule, the deeper and more 
numerous are the folds or convolutions of the cortex, 
and the finer its structure. It may be stated as a 
general rule, with but very few exceptions, that the 
higher the degree of intelligence in a lower animal or 
human being, the greater is the area of its cortex in 
proportion to the size of the brain. The cortex, it must 
be remembered, is folded into deep furrows or con- 
volutions, the brain in shape, divisions, and convolu- 
tions resembling the inner portion of an English walnut. 
The interior of the two hemispheres of the cerebrum 
is composed largely of connective nerves which doubt- 
less serve to produce and maintain the unity of func- 
tion of the mental processes. 

While physiological psychology has performed great 
work in discovering brain-centers and explaining much 
of the mechanism of mental processes, it has but 
touched the most elementary and simple of the men- 
tal processes. The higher processes have so far defied 
analysis or explanation in the terms of physiology. 



THE fact of consciousness is the great mystery 
of psychology. It is difficult even to define 
the term, although every person of average in- 
telligence understands what is sought to be conveyed 
by it. Webster defines it as ^%iowledge of one^s own 
existence, sensations, mental operations, etc. ; immediate 
knowledge or perception of any object, state, or sensa- 
tion; being aware; being sensible of." Another author- 
ity defines the term as "the state of being aware of 
one^s sensations; the power, faculty, or mental state of 
being aware of one's own existence, condition at the 
moment, thoughts, feelings, and actions." Halleck's 
definition is : "That indefinable characteristic of mental 
states which causes us to be aware of them." 

It will be seen that the idea of "awareness" is the 
essence of the idea of consciousness. But, at the last, 
we are compelled to acknowledge that it is impossible 
to closely define consciousness, for it is something so 
entirely unique and different from anything else that 
we have no other terms at all synonymous to it. We 
can define it only in its own terms, as will be seen by 


reference to the definitions above given. And it is 
equally impossible to clearly account for its appearance 
and being. Huxley has well said: "How it is that 
anything so remarkable as a state of consciousness comes 
about by the result of irritating nervous tissue, is just 
as unaccountable as the appearance of the jinnee when 
Aladdin rubbed his lamp." All that we can ever know 
regarding the nature of consciousness must be learned 
from turning the consciousness in ourselves back upon 
itself — ^by focusing consciousness upon its own mental 
operations by means of introspection. By turning in- 
ward the conscious gaze we may perceive the flow of 
the stream of thought from its rise from the subcon- 
scious regions of the mind to its final disappearance in 
the same region. 

It is a common error to suppose that we are directly 
conscious of objects outside of ourselves. This is im- 
possible, for there is no direct knowledge of such out- 
side objects. We are conscious merely of our sensations 
of, or mental images of, the outside objects. All that 
it is possible for us to be directly conscious of are our 
own mental experiences or states. We cannot be di- 
rectly conscious of anything outside of our own minds. 
We are not directly conscious of the tree which we see; 
we are directly conscious merely of the sensation of the 
nerves, arising from the impact of the light waves car- 


rying the image of the tree. We are not directly con- 
scious of the tree when we touch it and perceive its 
character in that way ; we are directly conscious merely 
of the sensation reported by the nerves in the finger 
tips which have come in contact with the tree. We are 
directly conscious even of our own bodies only in the 
same way. It is necessary for the mind to experience 
that of which it may become conscious. We are con- 
scious only of (1) that which our mind is experiencing 
at this moment, or (2) that which it has experienced 
in the past, and which is being re-experienced this mo- 
ment by the process of the memory, or which is being 
re-combined or re-arranged this moment by the imag- 

Subconscious Planes. 

But it must not be thought that every mental state 
or mental fact is in the field of consciousness. This 
error has been exploded for many years. The fact is 
now recognized that the field of consciousness is a very 
narrow and limited one, and that the great field of 
mental activity lies outside of its narrow limits. Be- 
yond and outside of the narrow field of consciousness 
lies the great subconscious storehouse of memory in 
which are stored the experiences of the past, to be 
drawn again into the field of consciousness by an effort 
of the will in the act of recollection, or by association 


in ordinary remembrance. In that great region, also, 
the mind manifests many of its activities and performs 
much of its work. In that great region are evolved 
the emotions and feelings which play such an impor- 
tant part in our lives, and which often manifest a vague 
disturbing unrest long before they rise to the plane of 
consciousness. In that great region are produced the 
ideas, feelings, and conceptions which arise to the plane 
of consciousness and manifest that which men call 

On the subconscious plane the imagination does much 
of its work, and startles its owner by presenting him 
with the accomplished result in the field of conscious- 
ness. In the subconscious field is performed that pe- 
culiar process of mental mastication, digestion, and 
assimilation with which all brain workers are familiar, 
and which absorbs the raw mental material given it, 
separates, digests, and assimilates it, and re-presents 
it to the conscious faculties sometime after as a trans- 
formed substance. It has been estimated that at least 
eighty-five per cent.;of our mental activities are per- 
formed below or outside of the field of consciousness. 
The psychology of to-day is paying much attention to 
this formerly neglected great area or areas of the mind. 
The psychology of to-morrow will pay still greater at- 
tention to it. 


The best of the modern authorities agree that in the 
great field of subconscious mentation is to be found the 
explanation of much that is unexplainable otherwise. 
In fact, it is probable that before long consciousness 
will be regarded as a mere focusing of attention upon 
mental states, and the objects of consciousness merely 
as that portion of the contents of the mind in the field 
of mental vision created by such focusing. 


INTIMATELY connected with the object of con- 
scionsness is that process of the mind which we 
call "attention/^ Attention is generally defined 
as "the application of the mind to a mental state." It 
is often referred to as "concentrated consciousness/' 
but others have ventured the somewhat daring con- 
jecture that consciousness itself is rather the result of 
attention, instead of the latter being an incident of 
consciousness. We shall not attempt to discuss this 
question here, except to state that consciousness depends 
very materially upon the degree of attention bestowed 
upon its object. The authorities place great impor- 
tance upon the intelligent direction of the attention, 
and hold that without this the higher forms of knowl- 
edge are impossible. 

It is the common belief that we feel, see, hear, taste, 
or smell whenever objects affecting those senses come 
in contact with the organs of sense governing them. 
But this is only a partial truth. The real truth is 
that we become conscious of the report of these senses 
only when the attention is directed toward the sensa- 
tion, voluntarily or involuntarily. That is to say, that 


in many cases although the sense nerves and organs 
report a disturbance^ the mind does not become con- 
sciously aware of the report unless the attention is 
directed toward it either by an act of will or else by 
reflex action. For instance, the clock may strike loudly, 
and yet we may not be conscious of the fact, for we are 
concentrating our attention upon a book; or we may 
eat the choicest food without tasting it, for we are 
listening intently to the conversation of our charming 
neighbor. We may fail to perceive some startling oc- 
currence happening under our very eyes, for we are 
buried in deep thought concerning something far re- 
moved from the present scene. There are many cases 
on record showing that one may be so interested in 
speaking, thinking, or acting that he will not experi- 
ence pain that would otherwise be intolerable. Writers 
have forgotten their pain in the concentrated interest 
bestowed upon their work; mothers have failed to feel 
pain when their infants required urgent attention; 
orators have been so carried away by their own elo- 
quence that they have failed to feel the pricking of 
the pin by means of which their friends have sought 
to attract their attention. Not only perception and 
feeling depend largely upon attention, but the proc- 
esses of reasoning, memory, and even of will, depend 
upon attention for much of their manifestation. 


Psychologists divide attention into two general 
classes^ viz.: (1) voluntary attention and (2) involun- 
tary attention. 

Voluntary attention is attention directed by the will 
to some object of our own more or less deliberate selec- 
tion. It requires a distinct effort of the will in order 
to focus the attention in this way, and many persons 
are scarcely aware of its existence, so seldom do they 
manifest it. Voluntary attention is the result of train- 
ing and practice, and marks the man of strong will, 
concentration, and character. Some authorities go so 
far as to say that much of that which is commonly 
called "will power" is really but a developed form of 
voluntary attention, the man of "strong will" holding 
before him the one idea which he wishes to realize. 

Involuntary attention, often called "reflex attention," 
is attention called forth by a nervous response to some 
sense stimulus. This is the common form of attention, 
and is but the same form which is so strongly mani- 
fested by children whose attention is caught by every 
new object, but which cannot be held for any length of 
time by a familiar or uninteresting one. 

It is of the utmost importance that one should cul- 
tivate his power of voluntary attention. Not only is 
the will power strengthened and developed in this way, 
but every mental faculty is developed by reason thereof. 


The training of the voluntary attention is the first step 
in mental development. 

Training the Attention. 

That the voluntary attention may be deliberately 
trained and developed is a fact which many of the 
world^s greatest men have proved for themselves. There 
is only one way to train and develop any mental power 
"of faculty — and that is by practice and use. By prac- 
tice, interest may be given to objects previously imin- 
teresting, and thus the use of the attention develops 
the interest which further holds it. Interest is the 
natural road over which attention travels easily, but 
interest itself may be induced by concentrated attention. 
By studying and examining an object, the attention 
brings to light many new and novel features regarding 
the thing, and these produce a new interest which in 
turn attracts further and continued attention. 

There is no royal road to the development of volun- 
tary attention. The only true method is work, /prac- 
tice, and use. You must practice on uninteresting 
things, the primary interest being your desire to develop 
the power of voluntary attention. But as you begin 
to attend to the uninteresting thing you will become 
interested in the task for its own sake. Take some 
object and "place your mind upon it.^' Think of its 


nature, where it came from, its use, its associations, its 
probable future, of tilings related to it, etc., etc. Keep 
the attention firmly upon it, and shut out all outside 
ideas. Then, after a little practice of this kind, lay 
aside the object for the time being, and take it up 
again the next day, endeavoring to discover new points 
of interest in it. The main thing to be sought is to 
hold the thing in your mind, and this can be done only 
by discovering features of interest in it. The interest- 
loving attention may rebel at this task at first, and will 
seek to wander from the path into the green pastures 
which are found on each side thereof. But you must 
bring the mind back to the task, again and again. 

After a time the mind will become accustomed to the 
drill, and will even begin to enjoy it. Give it some 
variety by occasionally changing the objects of exam- 
ination. The object need not always be something to 
be looked at. Instead, select some subject in history 
or literature, and "run it down,^^ endeavoring to bring 
to light all the facts relating to it that are possible to 
you. Anything may be used as the subject or object 
of your inquiry; but what is chosen must be held in 
the field of conscious attention firmly and fixedly. The 
habit once acquired, you will find the practice most 
fascinating. You will invent new subjects or objects 
of inquiry, investigation, and thought, which in them- 


selves will well repay you for your work and time. 
But never lose sight of the main point — the develop- 
ment of the power of voluntary attention. 

In studying the methods of developing and training 
the voluntary attention, the student should remember 
that any exercise which develops the will, will result in 
developing the attention; and, likewise, any exercise 
which develops the voluntary attention will tend to 
strengthen the will. The will and attention are so 
closely bound together that what affects one also influ- 
ences the other. This fact should be borne in mind, 
and the exercises and practices based upon it. 

In practicing concentration of voluntary attention, it 
should be remembered that concentrating consists not 
only of focusing the attention upon a given object or 
subject, but also of the shutting out of impressions from 
other objects or subjects. Some authorities advise that 
the student endeavor to listen to one voice among many, 
or one instrument among the many of a band or orches- 
tra. Others advise the practice of concentrating on the 
reading of a book in a room filled by persons engaged 
in conversation, and similar exercises. Whatever aids 
in narrowing the circle of attention at a given moment 
tends to develop the power of voluntary attention. 

The study of mathematics and logic is also held to be 
an excellent practice in concentration of voluntary at- 


tention, inasmuch as these studies require close con- 
centration and attention. Attention is also developed 
by any study or practice which demands analysis of a 
whole into its parts, and then the synthesis or building 
up of a whole from its scattered parts. Each of the 
senses should play a part in the exercises, and in addi- 
tion to this the mind should be trained to concentrate 
upon some one idea held within itself — some mental 
unage or abstract idea existing independently of any ob- 
ject of immediate sense report. 


IT is a common mistake that we perceive everything 
that is reported to the mind by the senses. As 
a matter of fact we perceive but a very small 
portion of the reports of the senses. There are thou- 
sands of sights reported by our eyes, sounds reported 
by our ears, smells reported by our nostrils, and con- 
tacts reported by our nerves of touch, every day of our 
lives, but which are not perceived or observed by the 
mind. We perceive and observe only when the atten- 
tion, reflex or voluntary, is directed to the report of 
the senses, and when the mind interprets the report. 
While perception depends upon the reports of the senses 
for its raw material, it depends entirely upon the ap- 
plication of the mind for its complete manifestation. 

The student usually experiences great difficulty in 
distinguishing between sensation and perception. A 
sensation is a simple report of the senses, which is 
received in consciousness. Perception is the thought 
arising from the feeling of the sensation. Perception 
usually combines several sensations into one thought or 
percept. By sensation the mind feels; by perception 


it knows that it feels, and recognizes the object causing 
the sensation. Sensation merely brings a report from 
outside objects, while perception identifies the report 
with the object which caused it. Perception interprets 
the reports of sensation. Sensation reports a flash of 
light from above; perception interprets the light as 
starlight, or moonlight, or sunlight, or as the flash of a 
meteor. Sensation reports a sharp, pricking, painful 
contact; perception interprets it as the prick of a pin. 
Sensation reports a red spot on a green background; 
perception interprets it as a berry on a bush. 

Moreover, while we may perceive a simple single 
sensation, our perceptions are usually of a group of sen- 
sations. Perception is usually employed in grouping 
sensations and identifying them with the object or ob- 
jects causing them. In its identification it draws upon 
whatever memory of past experiences the mind may 
possess. Memory, imagination, feeling, and thought 
are called into play, to some extent, in every clear per- 
ception. The infant has but feeble perception, but as 
it gains experience it begins to manifest perceptions 
and form percepts. Sensations resemble the letters of 
the alphabet, and perception the forming of words and 
sentences from the letters. Thus c, a, and t symbolize 
sensations, while the word "cat," formed from them, 
symbolizes the perception of the object 




It is held that all knowledge begins with sensation; 
that the mental history of the race or individual begins 
with its first sensation. But, while this is admitted, it 
must be remembered that sensation simply provides the 
simple, elementary, raw material of thought. The first 
process of actual thought, or knowledge, begins with 
perception. From our percepts all of our higher con- 
cepts and ideas are formed. Perception depends upon 
association of the sensation with other sensations pre- 
viously experienced; it is based upon experience. The 
greater the experience, the greater is the possibility of 
perception, all else being equal. 

When perception begins, the mind loses sight of the 
sensation in itself, for it identifies it as a quality of the 
thing producing it. The sensation of light is thought 
of as a quality of the star; the pricking sensation is 
thought of as a quality of the pin or chestnut bur; 
the sensation of odor is thought of as a quality of the 
rose. In the case of the rose, the several sensations of 
sight, touch, and smell, in their impression of the quali- 
ties of color, shape, softness, and perfume, are grouped 
together in the percept of the complete object of the 

A percept is "that which is perceived; the object of 
the act of perception." The percept, of course, is a 
mental state corresponding with its outside object. It 


is a combination of several sensations which are re- 
garded as the qualities of the outside object, to which 
are combined the memories of past experiences, ideas, 
feelings, and thoughts. A percept, then, while the 
simplest form of thought, is seen to be a mental state. 
The formation of a percept consists of three gradual 
stages, viz.: (1) The attention forms definite con- 
scious sensations from indefinite nervous reports; (2) 
the mind interprets these definite conscious sensations 
and attributes them to the outside object causing them ; 
(3) the related sensations are grouped together, their 
unity perceived, and they are regarded as qualities of 
the outside object. 

The plain distinction between a sensation and a per- 
cept may be fixed in the mind by remembering the 
following: A sensation is a feeling; a percept is a 
simple thought identifying one or more sensations. A 
sensation is merely the conscious recognition of an 
excitation of a nerve end; a percept results from a 
distinct mental process regarding the sensation. 

Developing Perception. 

It is of the utmost importance that we develop and 
train our powers of perception. For our education de- 
pends very materially upon our perceptive power. What 
matters it to us if the outside world be filled with 


manifold objects, if we do not perceive them to exist? 
Upon perception depends the material of our mental 
world. Many persons go through the world without 
perceiving even the most obvious facts. Their eyes 
and ears are perfect instruments, their nerves convey 
accurate reports, but the perceptive faculties of the 
mind fail to observe and interpret the report of the 
senses. They see and hear distinctly, but the reports of 
the senses are not observed or noted by them; they 
mean nothing to them. One may see many things, and 
yet observe but few. It is not upon what we see or 
hear that our stock of knowledge depends, so much as 
it does upon what we perceive, notice, or observe. 

Not only is one's stock of practical knowledge largely 
based upon developed perception, but one's success also 
depends materially upon the same faculties. In busi- 
ness and professional life the successful man is usually 
he who has developed perceptive powers; he who has 
learned to perceive, observe, and note. The man who 
perceives and takes mental notes of what occurs in his 
world is the man who is apt to know things when such 
knowledge is needed. In this age of "book education" 
we find that the young people are not nearly so observ- 
ant as are those children who had to depend upon the 
powers of perception for their knowledge. The young 
Arab or Indian will observe more in an hour than the 


civilized child will in a day. To live in a world of 
books tends, in many cases, to weaken the powers of 
observation and perception. 

Perception may be developed by practice. Begin by 
taking notice of the things seen and heard in your 
usual walks. Keep wide open the eyes of the mind. 
Xotice the faces of people, their walk, their character- 
istics. Look for interesting and odd tilings, and you 
will see them. Do not go through life in a daydream, 
but keep a sharp lookout for things of interest and 
value. The most familiar things will repay you for 
the time and work of examining them in detail, and 
the practice gained by such tasks will prove valuable 
in your development of perception. 

An authority remarks that very few persons, even 
those living in the country, know whether a cow's ears 
are above, below, behind, or in front of her horns; nor 
whether cats descend trees head first or tail first. Very 
few persons can distinguish between the leaves of the 
various kinds of familiar trees in their neighborhood. 
Comparatively few persons are able to descril)e the 
house in which they live, at least beyond the most 
general features — the details are unknown. 

Houdin, the French conjurer, was able to pass by a 
shop window and perceive every article in it, and then 
repeat what he had seen. But he acquired this skill 


only by constant and gradual practice. He himself 
decried his skill and claimed that it was as nothing 
compared to that of the fashionable woman who can 
pass another woman on the street and "take in'^ her 
entire attire, from head to foot, at one glance, and ^T)e 
able to describe not only the fashion and quality of the 
stuflEs, but also say if the lace be real or only machine 
made." A former president of Yale is said to have 
been able to glance at a book and read a quarter of a 
page at one time. 

Any study or occupation which requires analysis will 
develop the power of perception. Consequently, if we 
will analyze the things we see, resolving them into their 
parts or elements, we will likewise develop the percep- 
tive faculties. It is a good exercise to examine some 
small object and endeavor to discover as many separate 
points of perception as possible, noting them on a sheet 
of paper. The most familiar object, if carefully exam- 
ined, will yield rich returns. 

If two persons will enter into a contest of this kind, 
the spirit of rivalry and competition will quicken the 
powers of observation. Those who have had the pa- 
tience and perseverance to systematically practice exer- 
cises of this kind, report that they notice a steady 
improvement from the very start. But even if one 
does not feel inclined to practice in this way, it will 


^ found possible to begin to take notice of the details 
of things one sees, the expression of persons' faces, the 
detaUs of their dress, their tone of voice, the quality 
of the goods we handle, and the little things especially, 
Perception, like attention, follows interest; but, like- 
wise, interest may be created in things by observing 
^eir details, peculiarities, and characteristics. 

The best knowledge gained by one is that resulting 
from his own personal perception. There is a nearness 
^^d trueness about that which one knows in this way 
^hich is lacking in that which he merely believes be- 
^^Tise he has read or heard it. One can make such 
^J^owledge a part of himself. Not only is one's knowl- 
edge dependent upon what he perceives, but his very 
^l^aracter also results from the character of his percepts. 
The influence of environment is great — and what is 
^^vironment but things perceived about one ? It is not 
So much what lies outside of one, as what part of it 
gets inside of one by perception. By directing his at- 
tention to desirable objects, and perceiving as much of 
them as is possible, one really builds his own character 
at will. 

The world needs good "perceivers'' in all the walks 
of life. It finds a shortage of them, and is demanding 
them loudly, being willing to pay a good price for their 
services. Tlie person who can voluntarily perceive and 


observe the details of any profession, business, or trade 
will go far in that vocation. The education of children 
should take the faculty of perception into active con- 
sideration. The kindergarten has taken some steps in 
this direction, but there is much more to be done. 


PSYCHOLOGISTS class as "representative men- 
tal processes" those known as memory and 
imagination, respectively. The term "repre- 
sentation" is used in psychology to indicate the processes 
of re-presentation or presenting again to consciousness 
that which has formerly been presented to it but which 
afterward passed from its field. As Hamilton says: 
"The general capability of knowledge necessarily re- 
quires that, besides the power of evoking out of uncon- 
sciousness one portion of our retained knowledge in 
preference to another, we possess the faculty of repre- 
senting in consciousness what is thus evoked." 

Memory is the primary representative faculty or 
power of the mind. Imagination depends upon mem- 
ory for its material, as we shall see when we consider 
that faculty. Every mental process which involves the 
remembrance, recollection, or representation of a sen- 
sation, perception, mental image, thought, or idea pre- 
viously experienced must depend upon memory for its 
material. Memory is the great storehouse of the mind 
in which are placed the records of previous mental 
experiences. It is a part of the great subconscious field 


of mental activity, and the greater part of its work is 
performed below the plane of consciousness. It is only 
when its results are passed into the field of conscious- 
ness that we are aware of its existence. We know mem- 
ory only by its works. Of its nature we know but little, 
although certain of its principal laws and principles 
have been discovered. 

It was formerly customary to class memory with the 
various faculties of the mind, but later psychology no 
longer so considers it. Memory is now regarded as a 
power of the general mind, manifesting in connection 
with every faculty of the mind. It is now regarded 
as belonging to the great subconscious field of menta- 
tion, and its explanation must be sought there. It is 
utterly unexplainable otherwise. 

The importance of memory cannot be overestimated. 
Not only does a man's character and education depend 
chiefly upqn it, but his very mental being is bound up 
with it. If there were no memory, man would never 
progress mentally beyond the mental state of the new- 
born babe. He would never be able to profit by experi- 
ence. He would never be able to form clear percep- 
tions. He would never be able to reason or form 
judgments. The processes of thought depend for ma- 
terial upon the memory of past experiences; this mate- 
rial lacking, there can be no thought. 


Memory has two important general functions, viz.: 

(1) The retention of impressions and experiences; and 

(2) the reproduction of the impressions and experi- 
ences so retained. 

' It was formerly held that the memory retained only 
a portion of the impressions and experiences originally 
noted by it. But the present theory is that it retains 
every impression and experience which is noted by it. 
It is true that many of these impressions are never 
reproduced in consciousness, but experiments tend to 
prove, nevertheless, that the records are still in the 
memory and that appropriate and sufficiently strong 
stimuli will bring them into the field of consciousness. 
The phenomena of somnambulism, dreams, hysteria, 
delirium, approach of death, etc., show that the sub- 
conscious mind has an immense accumulation of appar- 
ently forgotten facts, which unusual stimuli will serve 
to recall. 

The power of the memory to reproduce the retained 
impressions and experiences is variously called remem- 
brance, recollection, or memory. This power varies 
materially in various individuals, but it is an axiom of 
psychology that the memory of any person may be 
developed and trained by practice. The ability to recall 
depends to a great extent upon the clearness and depth 
of the original impression, which in turn depends upon 


the degree of attention given to it at the time of its 
occurrence. Recollection is also greatly aided by the 
law of association, or the principle whereby one mental 
fact is linked to another. The more facts to which a 
given fact is linked, the greater the ease by which it is 
recalled or remembered. Recollection is also greatly 
assisted by use and exercise. Like the fingers, the 
memory cells of the brain become expert and efficient 
by use and exercise, or stiff and inefficient by lack of 
the same. 

In addition to the phases of retention and repro- 
duction, there are two important phases of memory, 
viz.: (3) Recognition of the reproduced impression or 
experience; and (4) localization of the impression, or 
its reference to a more or less definite time and place. 

The recognition of the recalled impression is quite 
important. It is not enough that the impression be 
retained and recalled. If we are not able to recognize 
the recalled impression as having been experienced be- 
fore, the recollection will be of but little use to us in 
our thought processes ; the purposes of thought demand 
that we shall be able to identify the recalled impression 
with the original one. Recognition is really re-cogni- 
tion — re-knowing. Recognition is akin to perception. 
The mind becomes conscious of the recalled impression 
just as it becomes conscious of the sensation. It then 


recognizes the relation of the recalled impression to the 
original one just as it realizes the relation of the sensa- 
tion to its object. 

The localization of the recalled and recognized im- 
pression is also important. Even if we recognize the 
recalled impression, it will be of comparatively little 
use to us unless we are able to locate it as having hap- 
pened yesterday, last week, last month, last year, ten 
years ago, or at some time in the past; and as having 
happened in our oflBce, house, or in such-and-such a 
place in the street, or in some distant place. Without 
the power of localization we should be unable to con- 
nect and associate the remembered fact with the time, 
place, and persons with which it should be placed to be 
of use and value to us in our thought processes. 


The retention of a mental impression in the ^jaemory 
depends very materially upon the clearness and depth 
of the original impression. And this clearness and 
depth, as we have previously stated, depend upon the 
degree of attention bestowed upon the original impres- 
sion. Attention, then, is the important factor in the 
forming and recording of impressions. The rule is: 
Slight attention, faint record; marked attention, clear 
and deep record. To fix this fact in the mind, the stu- 


dent may think of the retentive and reproductive 
phases of memory as a phonographic record. The re- 
ceiving diaphragm of the phonograph represenxs the 
sense organs, and the recording needle represents the 
attention. The needle makes the record on the cylinder 
deep or faint according to the condition of the needle. 
A loud sound may be recorded but faintly, if the needle 
is not properly adjusted. And, further, it must be 
remembered that the strength of the reproduction de- 
pends almost entirely upon the clearness and depth of 
the original impression on the cylinder; as is the record, 
so is the reproduction. It will be well for the student 
to carry this symbol of the phonograph in his mind; 
it will aid him in developing his powers of memory. 

In this connection we should remember that atten- 
tion depends largely upon interest. Therefore we would 
naturally expect to find that we remember interesting 
things far more readily than those which lack interest. 
This supposition is borne out in actual experience. 
This accounts for the fact that every one remembers a 
certain class of things better than he does others. One 
remembers faces, another dates, another spoken con- 
versation, another written words, and so on. It will be 
found, as a rule, that each person is interested in the 
class of things which he most easily remembers. The 
artist easily remembers faces and details of faces, or 


scenery and details thereof. The musician easily re; 
calls passages or bars of music^ often of a most com-' 
plicated nature. The speculator easily recalls the 
quotations of his favorite stocks. The racing man 
recalls without diflBculty the *^odds" posted on a certain 
horse on a certain day, or the details of a race which 
was run many years ago. The moral is: Arouse and 
induce an interest in the things which you wish to 
remember. This interest may be aroused by studying 
the things in question, as we have suggested in a pre- 
ceding chapter. 

Visualization in Memory. 

Many of the best authorities hold that original im- 
pressions may be made clear and deep, and the process 
of reproduction accordingly rendered more efficient, by 
the practice of visualizing the thing to be remembered. 
By visualizing is meant the formation of a mental im- 
jage of the thing in the imagination. If you wish to 
remember the appearance of anything, look at it closely, 
with attention, and then turning away from it endeavor 
to reproduce its appearance as a mental picture in the 
mind. If this is done, a particularly clear impression 
will be made in the memory, and when you recall the 
thing you will find that you will also recall the clear 
mental image of it. Of course the greater the number 


of details observed and included in the original mental 
image, the greater the remembered detail. 

Peeception in Memory. 
Not only is attention necessary in forming clear mem- 
ory records, but careful perception is also important. 
Without clear perception there is a lack of detail in the 
retained record, and the element of association is lack- 
ing. It is not enough to merely remember the thing 
itself; we should also remember what it is, and all 
about it. The practice of the methods of developing 
perception, given in a preceding lesson, will tend to 
develop and train the retentive, reproductive, recogni- 
tive, and locative powers of the memory. The rule is: 
The greater the degree of perception accorded a thing, 
the greater the detail of the retained impression, and 
the greater the ease of the recollection. 


Another important point in acquiring impressions in 
memory is this : That the better the understanding of 
the subject or object, the clearer the impressions regard- 
ing it, and the clearer the recollection of it. This fact 
is proved by experiment and experience. A subject 
which will be remembered only with difficulty under 
ordinary circumstances will be easily remembered if it 


is fully explained to the person, and accompanied by a 
few familiar illustrations or examples. It is very diffi- 
cult to remember a meaningless string of words, while 
a sentence which conveys a clear meaning may be mem- 
orized easily. If we understand what a thing is for, 
its uses and employment, we remember it far more 
easily than if we lack this understanding. Elbring- 
haus, who conducted a number of experiments along 
this line, reports that he could memorize a stanza of 
poetry in about one tenth the time required to memo- 
rize the same amount of nonsense syllables. Gordy 
states that he once asked a capable student of the Johns 
Hopkins University to give him an account of a lecture 
to which he had just listened. "I cannot do it,^^ re- 
plied the student; ^^it was not logical.^^ The rule is: 
The more one knows about a certain thing, the more 
easily is that thing remembered. This is a point worth 


Memory — Continued. 

THE subject of memory cannot be touched upon 
Intelligently without a consideration of the 
Law of Association, one of the important psy- 
chological principles. 

The Law op Association. 
What is known in psychology as the Law of Asso- 
ciation is based on the fact that no idea exists in the 
mind except in association with other ideas. This is 
not generally recognized, and the majority of persons 
will dispute the law at first thought. But the existence 
and appearance of ideas in the mind are governed by a 
mental law as invariable and constant as the physical 
law of gravitation. Every idea has associations with 
other ideas. Ideas travel in groups, and one group is 
associated with another group, and so on, until in the 
end every idea in one's mind is associated directly or 
indirectly with every other idea. Theoretically, at 
least, it would be possible to begin with one idea in the 
mind of a person, and then gradually unwind his entire 
stock of ideas like the yam on the ball. Our thoughts 


proceed according to this law. We sit down in a 
'Tbrown stndy^* and proceed from one subject to another, 
until we are unable to remember any connection between 
the first thought and the last. But each step of the 
reverie was connected with the one preceding and the 
one succeeding it. It is interesting to trace back these 
connections. Poe based one of his celebrated detective 
stories on this law. The reverie may be broken into 
by a sudden impression from outside, and we will then 
proceed from that impression, connecting it with some- 
thing else already in our experience, and starting a new 
chain of sequence. 

Often we fail to trace the associations governing our 
ideas, but the chain is there nevertheless. One may 
think of a past scene or experience without any apparent 
cause. A little thought will show that something seen, 
or a few notes of a song floating to the ears, or the 
fragrance of a flower, has supplied the connecting link 
between the past and the present. A suggestion of 
mignonette will recall some past event in which the 
perfume played a part; some one's handkerchief, per- 
haps, carried the same odor. Or an old familiar tune 
reminds one of some one, something, or some place in 
the past. A familiar feature in the countenance of a 
passer-by will start one thinking of some one else who 
had that kind of a mouth, that shaped nose, or that 


expression of the eye — and away he will be off in a 
sequence of remembered experiences. Often the start- 
ing idea, or the connecting links, may appear but dimly 
in consciou-sness ; but rest assured they are always there. 
In fact, we frequently accept this law, unconsciously 
and without realizing its actual existence. For instance, 
one makes a remark, and at once we wonder, ^^How 
did he come to think of that ?^^ and, if we are shrewd, 
we may discover what was in his mind before he spoke. 

There are two general classes of association of ideas 
in memory, viz.: (1) Association of contiguity, and 
(2) logical association. 

Association of contiguity is that form of association 
depending upon the previous association in time or 
space of ideas which have been impressed on the mind. 
For instance, if you met Mr. and Mrs. Wetterhom and 
were introduced to them one after the other, thereafter 
you will naturally remember Mr. W. when you think 
of Mrs. W., and vice versa. You will naturally remem- 
ber N*apoleoli when you think of Wellington, or Bene- 
dict Arnold when you think of Major Andre, for the 
same reason. You wiU also naturally remember b and c 
when you think of a. Likewise, you will think of abstract 
time when you think of abstract space, of thunder when 
you think of lightning, of colic when you recall green 
apples, of love making and moonlight nights when you 


think of college days. In the same way we remember 
things which occurred just before or just after the 
event in our mind at the moment; of things near in 
space to the thing of which we are thinking. 

Logical association depends upon the relation of 
likeness or difference between several things thought of. 
Things thus associated may have never come into the 
mind at the same previous time, nor are they neces- 
sarily connected in time and space. One may think of 
a book, and then proceed by association to think of 
another book by the same author, or of another author 
treating of the same subject. Or he may think of a 
book directly opposed to the first, the relation of dis- 
tinct diflference causing the associated idea. Logical 
association depends upon inner relations, and not upon 
the outer relations of time and space. This innerness 
of relation between things not connected in space or 
tune is discovered only by experience and education. 
The educated man realizes many points of relationship 
between things that are thought by the uneducated man 
to be totally unrelated. Wisdom and knowledge con- 
sist largely in the recognition of relations between 


Association in Memoby. 

It follows from a consideration of the Law of Asso- 
ciation that when one wishes to impress a thing upon 


the memory he should, as an authority says, ^^Multiply 
associations; entangle the fact you wish to remember 
in a net of as many associations as possible, especially 
those that are logical." Hence the advice to place your 
facts in groups and classes in the memory. As Blackie 
says: ^^Nothing helps the mind so much as order and 
classification. Classes are always few, individuals 
many; to know the class well is to know what is most 
essential in the character of the individual, and what 
burdens the memory least to retain." 

Eepetition in Memory. 

Another important principle of memory is that the 
impressions acquire depth and clearness by repetition. 
Repeat a line of poetry once, and you may remember it ; 
repeat it again, and your chances of remembering it are 
greatly increased ; repeat it a sufficient number of times, 
and you cannot escape remembering it. The illustra- 
tion of the phonograph record will help you to under- 
stand the reason of this. The rule is: Constant 
repetition deepens memory impressions; frequent re- 
viewing and recalling what has been memorized tends 
to keep the records clear and clean, beside deepening 
the impression at each review. 


General Bulbs of Memory. 
The following general rules will be of service to the 
student who wishes to develop his memory: — 

Making Impressions. 

(1) Bestow attention. 

(2) Cultivate interest. 

(3) Manifest perception. 

(4) Cultivate understanding. 

(5) Form associations. 

(6) Bepeat and review. 

Recalling Impressions. 

(1) Endeavor to get hold of the loose end of asso- 
ciation, and then unwind your memory ball of yarn. 

(2) When you recall an impression, send it back 
with energy to deepen the impression, and attach it to 
as many new associations as possible. 

(3) Practice a little memorizing and recalling each 
day, if only a line of verse. The memory improves by 
practice, and deteriorates by neglect and disuse. 

(4) Demand good service of your memory, and it 
will learn to respond. Learn to trust it, and it will 
rise to the occasion. How can you expect your mem- 
ory to give good service when you continually abuse it 
and tell every one of "the wretched memory I have; 


I can never remember anything^'? Your memory is 
very apt to accept your statements as truth; our mental 
faculties have an annoying habit of taking us at our 
word in these matters. Tell your memory what you 
expect it to do; then trust it and refrain from abusing 
it and giving it a bad name. 

Final Advice. 

Finally, remember this rule: You get out of your 
memory only that which you place in it. Place in it 
good, clear, deep impressions, and it will reproduce 
good, clear, strong recollections. Think of your mem- 
ory as a phonographic record, and take care that you 
place the right kind of impressions upon it. In mem- 
ory you reap that which you have sown. You must 
give to the memory before you can receive from it. 
Of one thing you may rest assured, namely, tha/t unless 
you take suflBcient interest in the things to be remem- 
bered, you will find that the memory will not take 
suflBcient interest in them to remember them. Memory 
demands interest before it will take interest in the task. 
It demands attention before it will give attention. It 
demands understanding before it will give understand- 
ing. It demands association before it will respond to 
association. It demands repetition before it will re- 
peat. The memory is a splendid instrument, but it 


stands on its dignity and asserts its rights. It belongs 
to the old dispensation — it demands compensation and 
believes in giving only in equal measure to what it 
receives. Our advice is to get acquainted with your 
memory, and make friends with it. Treat it well and 
it will serve you well. But neglect it, and it will turn 
ils back on you. 



THE imagination belongs to the general class of 
mental processes called the representative facul- 
ties, by which is meant the processes in which 
there are re-presented, or presented again, to conscious- 
ness impressions previously presented to it. 

As we have indicated elsewhere, the imagination is 
dependent upon memory for its materials — its records 
of previous impressions. But imagination is more than 
mere memory or recollection of these previously experi- 
enced and recorded impressions. There is, in addition 
to the re-presentation and recollection, a process of 
arranging the recalled impressions into new forms and 
new combinations. The imagination^ not only gathers 
together the old impressions, but also creates new com- 
binations and forms from the material so gathered. 

Psychology gives us many hairsplitting definitions 
and distinctions between simple reproductive imagina- 
tion and memory, but these distinctions are technical 
and as a rule perplexing to the average student. In 
truth, there is very little, if any, diflference between 
simple reproductive imagination and memory, although 


when the imagination indulges in constructive activity 
a new feature enters into the process which is absent in 
pure memory operations. In simple reproductive imag- 
ination there is simply the formation of the mental 
image of some previous experience — ^the reproduction 
of a previous mental image. This differs very little 
from memory, except that the recalled image is clearer 
and stronger. In the same way in ordinary memory, 
in the manifestation of recollection, there is often the 
same clear, strong mental image that is produced in 
Teproductive imagination. The two mental processes 
hlend into each other so closely that it is practically 
impossible to draw the line between them, in spite of 
the technical differences urged by the psychologists. 
Of course the mere remembrance of a person who pre- 
sents himself to one is nearer to pure memory than to 
imagination, for the process is that of recognition. 
But the memory or remembrance of the same person 
when he is absent from sight is practically that of 
reproductive imagination. Memory, in its stage of 
recognition, exists in the child mind before reproduc- 
tive imagination is manifested. The latter, therefore, 
is regarded as a higher mental process. 

But still higher in the scale is that which is known 
as constructive imagination. This form of imagina- 
tion appears at a later period of child mentation, and 


is regarded as a later evolution of mental processes of 
the race. Gordy makes the following distinction be- 
tween the two phases of imagination : "The difference 
between reproductive imagination and constructive 
imagination is that the images resulting from repro- 
ductive imagination are copies of past experience, while 
those resulting from constructive imagination are not. 
* * * To learn whether any particular image, or com- 
bination of images, is the product of reproductive or 
constructive imagination, all we have to do is to learn 
whether or not it is a copy of a past experience. Our 
memories, of course, are defective, and we may be un- 
certain on that account; but apart from that, we need 
be in no doubt whatever.^' 

Many persons hearing for the first time the state- 
ment of psychologists that the imaginative faculties 
can re-present and re-produce or re-combine only the 
images which have previously been impressed upon the 
mind, are apt to object that they can, and frequently 
do, image things which they have not previously experi- 
enced. But can they and do they? Is it not true that 
what they believe to be original creations of the imag- 
ination are merely new combinations of original impres- 
sions? For instance, no one ever saw a unicorn, and yet 
some one originally imagined its form. But a little 
thought will show that the image of the unicorn is 


merely that of an animal having the head, neck, and 
body of a horse, with the beard of a goat, the 1^ of a 
buck, the tail of a lion, and a long, tapering horn, 
spirally twisted, in the middle of the forehead. Each 
of the several parts of the unicorn exists in some living 
animal, although the unicorn, composed of all of these 
parts, is non-existent outside of fable. In the same 
way the centaur is composed of the body, legs, and tail 
of the horse and the trunk, head, and arms of a man. 
The satyr has the head, body, and arms of a man, with 
the horns, legs, and hoofs of a goat. The mermaid has 
the head, arms, and trunk of a woman, joined at the 
waist to the body and tail of a fish. The mythological 
"devil" has the head, body, and arms of a man, with 
the horns, legs, and cloven foot of the lower animal, 
and a peculiar tail composed of that of some animal but 
tipped with a spearhead. Each of these characteristics 
is composed of familiar images of experience. The im- 
agination may occupy itself for a lifetime turning out 
impossible animals of this kind, but every part thereof 
will be found to correspond to something existent in 
nature, and experienced by the mind of the person cre- 
ating the strange beast. 

In the same way the imagination may picture a 
familiar person or thing acting in an unaccustomed 
manner, the latter having no basis in fact so far as the 


individual person or thing is concerned, but being war- 
ranted by some experience concerning other persons or 
things. For instance, one may easily form the image 
of a dog swimming under water like a fish, or climbing 
a tree like a cat. Likewise, one may form a mental 
image of a learned, bewigged High Chancellor, or a 
venerable Archbishop of Canterbury, dressed like a 
clown, standing on his head, balancing a colored foot- 
ball on his feet, sticking his tongue in his cheek and 
winking at the audience. In the same way one may 
imagine a railroad running across a barren desert, or a 
steep mountain, upon which there is not as yet a rail 
laid. The bridge across a river may be imaged in the 
same way. In fact, this is the way that everything 
is mentally created, constructed, or invented — ^the old 
materials being combined in a new way, and arranged 
in a new fashion. Some psychologists go so far as to 
say that no mental image of memory is an exact repro- 
duction of the original impression; that there are al- 
ways changes due to the imconscious operation of the 
constructive imagination. 

The constructive imagination is able to ''tear things 
to pieces" in search for material, as well as to ^^join 
things together" in its work of building. The impor- 
tance of the imagination in all the processes of intel- 
lectual thought is great. Without imagination man 


could not reason or manifest any intellectual process. 
It is impossible to consider the subject of thought with- 
out first regarding the processes of imagination. And 
yet it is common to hear persons speak of the imag- 
ination as if it were a faculty of mere fancy, useless 
and without place in the practical world of thought. 

Developing the Imagination. 
The imagination is capable of development and train- 
ing. The general rules for development of the imag- 
ination are practically those which we have stated in 
connection with the development of the memory. There 
is the same necessity for plenty of material; for the 
formation of clear and deep impressions and clear-cut 
mental images; the same necessity for repeated impres- 
sion, and the frequent use and employment of the 
faculty. The practice of visualization, of course, 
strengthens the power of the imagination as it does 
that of the memory, the two powers being intimately 
related. The imagination may be strengthened and 
trained by deliberately recalling previous impressions 
and then combining them into new relations. The 
materials of memory may be torn apart and then re- 
combined and re-grouped. In the same way one may 
enter into the feelings and thoughts of other persons 
by imagining one^s self in their place and endeavoring 


to act out in imagination the life of such persons. In 
this way one may build up a much fuller and broader 
conception of human nature and human motives. 

In this place, also, we should caution the student 
against the common waste of the powers of the imagina- 
tion, and the dissipation of its powers in idle fancies 
and daydreams. Many persons misuse their imagina- 
tion in this way and not only weaken its power for 
effective work but also waste their time and energy. 
Daydreams are notoriously unfit for the real, practical 

work of life. 

Imagination and Ideals. 

And, finally, the student should remember that in the 
category of the imaginative powers must be placed that 
phase of mental activity which has so much to do with 
the making or marring of one's life — the formation of 
ideals. Our ideals are the patterns after which we 
shape our life. According to the nature of our ideals 
is the character of the life we lead. 

Our ideals are the supports of that which we call 

It is a truth, old as the race, and now being per- 
ceived most clearly by thinkers, that indeed "as a man 
thinketh in his heart so is he.'' The influence of our 
ideals is perceived to affect not only our character but 
also our place and degree of success in life. We grow 


to be that of which we have held ideals. If we create 
an ideal^ either of general qualities or else these quali- 
ties as manifested by some person living or dead, and 
keep that ideal ever before us, we cannot help develop- 
ing traits and qualities corresponding to those of our 
ideal. Careful thought will show that character depends 
greatly upon the nature of our ideals ; therefore we see 
the effect of the imagination in character building. 

Moreover, our imagination has an important bearing 
on our actions. Many a man has committed an im- 
prudent or immoral act which he would not have done 
had he been possessed of an imagination which showed 
him the probable results of the action. In the same 
way many men have been inspired to great deeds and 
achievements by reason of their imagination picturing 
to them the possible results of certain action. The "big 
things" in all walks of life have been performed by 
men who had sufficient imagination to picture the pos- 
sibilities of certain courses or plans. The railroads, 
bridges, telegraph lines, cable lines, and other works of 
man are the results of the imagination of some men. 
The good fairy godmother always provides a vivid and 
lively imagination among the gifts she bestows upon 
her beloved godchildren. Well did the old philosopher 
pray to the gods : "And, with all, give unto me a clear 
and active imagination.'' 


The dramatic values of life depend upon the quality 
of the imagination. Life without imagination is me- 
chanical and dreary. Imagination may increase the 
susceptibility to pain, but it pays for this by increasing 
the capacity for joy and happiness. The pig has but 
little imagination, — ^little pain and little joy, — ^but who 
envies the pig? The person with a clear and active 
imagination is in a measure a creator of his world, or 
at least a re-creator. He takes an active part in the 
creative activities of the universe, instead of being a 
mere pawn pushed here and there in the game of life. 

Again, the divine gift of sympathy and understand- 
ing depends materially upon the possession of a good 
imagination. One can never understand the pain or 
problems of another imless he first can imagine him- 
self in the place of the other. Imagination is at the 
very heart of sympathy. One may be possessed of great 
capacity for feeling, but owing to his lack of imagina- 
tion may never have this feeling called into action. 
The person who would sympathize with others must first 
learn to understand them and feel their emotions. This 
he can do only if he has the proper degree of imagina- 
tion. Those who reach the heart of the people must 
first be reached by the feelings of the people. And this 
is possible only to him whose imagination enables him 
to picture himself in the same condition as others, and 


thus awaken his latent feelings and sympathies and 
nnderstanding. Thus it is seen that the imagination 
touches not only our intellectual life but also our emo- 
tional nature. Imagination is the very life of the soul. 


The Feelings. 

IN thinking of the mind and its activities we are 
accustomed to the general idea that the mental 
processes are chiefly those of intellect, reason, 
thought. But, as a fact, the greater part of the mental 
activities are those concerned with feeling and emotion. 
The intellect is the youngest child of the mind, and 
while making its presence strenuously known in the 
manner of all youngest children so that one is perhaps 
justified in regarding it as "the whole thing'^ in the 
family, nevertheless it really plays but a comparatively 
small part in the general work of the mental family. 
The activities of the "feeling'^ side of life greatly out- 
number those of the "thinking'^ side, are far stronger 
in their influence and effect, as a rule, and, in fact, so 
color the intellectual processes, unconsciously, as to con- 
stitute their distinctive quality except in the case of a 
very few advanced thinkers. 

But there is a difference between "feeling" and "emo- 
tion," as the terms are employed in psychology. The 
former is the simple phase, the latter the complex. 
Generally speaking, the resemblance or difference is 


akin to that existing between sensation and perception, 
as explained in a previous chapter. Beginning with 
the simple^ in order later on to reach the complex^ we 
shall now consider that which is known as simple ''feel- 

The term "feeling/^ as used in this connection in 
psychology^ has been defined as ^^the simple agreeable 
or disagreeable side of any mental state." These agree- 
able or disagreeable sides of mental states are quite 
distinct from the act of knowing, which accompanies 
them. One may perceive and thus "know" that another 
is speaking to him and be fully aware of the words 
being used and of their meaning. Ordinarily, and so 
far as pure thought processes are concerned, this would 
complete the mental state. But we must reckon on the 
feeling side as well as on the thinking side of the mental 
state. Accordingly we find that the knowledge of the 
words of the other person and the meaning thereof 
results in a mental state agreeable or disagreeable. In 
the same way the reading of the words of a book, the 
hearing of a song, or a sight or scene perceived, may 
result in a more or less strong feeling, agreeable or dis- 
agreeable. This sense of agreeable or disagreeable con- 
sciousness is the essential characteristic of what we call 

It is very difficult to explain feeling except in its own 


terms. We know very well what we mean^ or what 
another means, when it is said that we or he 'Jeels sad," 
or has *^a joyous feeling," or ^'a feeling of interest." 
And yet we shall find it very hard to explain the mental 
state except in terms of feeling itself. Our knowledge 
depends entirely upon our previous experience of the 
feeling. As an authority says: ^^If we have never felt 
pleasure, pain, fear, or sorrow, a quarto volume cannot 
make us imderstand what such a mental state is." 
Every mental state is not distinguished by strong feel- 
ing. There are certain mental states which are con- 
cerned chiefly with intellectual effort, and in which all 
trace of feeling seems to be absent, unless, as some have 
claimed, the ^^feeling" of interest or the lack of same 
is a faint form of the feeling of pleasure or pain. 
Habit may dull the feeling of a mental state until it is 
apparently neutral, but there is generally a faint feeling 
of like or dislike still left. 

The elementary forms of feeling are closely allied 
with those of simple sensation. But experiments have 
revealed that there is a distiiiction in consciousness. It 
has been discovered that one is often conscious of the 
"touch" of a heated object before he is of the feeling 
or pain resulting from it. Psychologists have pointed 
out another distinction, namely: When we experience 
a sensation we are accustomed to refer it to the 


outside thing which is the object of it, as when we 
touch the heated object ; but when we experience a feel- 
ing we instinctively refer it to ourself, as when the 
heated object gives us pain. As an authority has said : 
"My feelings belong to me; but my sensations seem to 
belong to the object which caused them." 

Another proof of the difference and distinction be- 
tween sensation and feeling is the fact that the same 
sensation will produce different feelings in different 
persons experiencing the former, eVen at the same time. 
For instance, the same sight will cause one person to 
feel elated, and the other depressed; the same words 
will produce a feeling of joy in one, and a feeling of 
sorrow in another. The same sensation will produce 
different feelings in the same person at different times. 
An authority well says: "You drop your purse, and 
you see it lying on the groimd as you stoop to pick it 
up, with no feeling either of pleasure or pain. But 
if you see it after you have lost it and have hunted for 
it a long time in vain, you have a pronounced feeling 
of pleasure." 

There is a vast range of degree and kind in feeling. 
Gordy says : "All forms of pleasure and pain are called 
feelings. Between the pleasure which comes from eat- 
ing a peach and that which results from solving a diflR- 
cult problem, or learning good news of a friend, or 


thinking of the progress of civilization — ^between the 
pain that results from a cut in the hand and that which 
results from the failure of a long-cherished plan or the 
death of a friend — there is a long distance. But the 
one group are all pleasures; the other all pains. And, 
whatever the source of the pleasure or pain, it is alike 

There are many different kinds of feelings. Some 
arise from sensations of physical comfort or discomfort ; 
others from purely physiological conditions; others 
from the satisfaction of accustomed tastes, or the dis- 
satisfaction arising from the stimulation of unaccus- 
tomed tastes; others from the presence or absence of 
comfort; others from the presence or absence of things 
or persons for whom we have an affection or liking. 
Over-indulgence often transforms the feeling of pleas- 
ure into that of pain; and, likewise, habit and practice 
may cause us to experience a pleasurable feeling from 
that which formerly inspired feeling of an opposite kind. 
Feelings also differ in degree ; that is to say, some things 
cause us to experience pleasurable feelings of a greater 
intensity than do others, and some cause us to experi- 
ence painful feelings of a greater intensity than do 
others. These degrees of intensity depend more or less 
upon the habit or experience of the individual. As a 
general rule, feelings may be classified into (1) those 


arising from physical sensations^ and (2) those arising 
from ideas. 

The feelings depending upon physical sensations 
arise either from inherited tendencies and inclinations 
or from acquired habits and experience. It is an axiom 
of the evolutionary school that any physical activity 
that has been a habit of the race, long continued, be- 
comes an instinctive pleasure-giving activity in the 
individual. For instance, the race for many genera- 
tions was compelled to hunt, fish, travel, swim, etc., in 
order to maintain existence. The result is that we, the 
descendants, are apt to find pleasure in the same activi- 
ties as sport, games, exercise, etc. Many of our tenden- 
cies and feelings are inherited in this way. To these 
we have added many acquired habits of physical activ- 
ity, which follow the same rule, t. e,, that habit and 
practice impart more or less pleasurable feeling. We 
find more pleasure in doing those things which we can 
do easily or quite well than in the opposite kind of 

The feelings depending upon ideas may also arise 
from inheritance. Many of our mental tendencies and 
inclinations have come down to us from the past. There 
are certain feelings that are born in one, without a 
doubt; that is to say, there is a great capacity for such 
feelings which will be transformed into manifestation 


upon the presentation of the proper stimulus. Other 
mental feelings depend upon our individual past experi- 
ence, association, or suggestions from others — ^upon our 
past environment, in fact. The ideals of those around 
us will cause us to experience pleasure or pain, as the 
case may be, under certain circumstances; the force of 
suggestion along these lines is very strong indeed. Not 
only do we experience feelings in response to present 
sensations, but the recollection of some previous experi- 
ence will also arouse feeling. In fact, feelings of this 
kind are closely boimd up with memory and imagina- 
tion. Persons of vivid imagination are apt to feel 
far more than others. They suffer more, and enjoy 
more. Our sympathies, which depend largely upon our 
imaginative power, are the cause of many of our feel- 
ings of this kind. 

Many of the facts which we generally ascribe to feel- 
ing are really a part of the phenomena of emotion, the 
latter being the more complex phase of feeling. For 
the purposes of this consideration we have regarded 
simple feeling as the raw material of emotion, the rela- 
tion being compared to that existing between sensation 
and perception. In our consideration of emotion we 
shall see the fuller manifestation of feeling, and its 
more complex expressions. 

The Emotions. 

Awe have seen in the preceding lessons^ an emo- 
tion is the more complex phase of feeling. 
As a rule an emotion arises from a number 
of feelings. Moreover, it is of a higher order of mental 
activity. As we have seen, a feeling may arise either 
from a physical sensation or from an idea. Emotion, 
however, as a rule, is dependent upon an idea for its 
expression, and always upon an idea for its direction 
and its continuance. Feeling, of course, is the ele- 
mental spirit of all emotional states, and, as an author- 
ity has said, is the thread upon which the emotional 
states are strung. 

Halleck says: '^When representative ideas appear, 
the feeling in combination with them produces emotion. 
After the waters of the Missouri combine with another 
stream, they receive a different name, although they 
flow toward the gulf in as great volume as before. 
Suppose we liken the feeling due to sensation to the 
Missouri River; the train of representative ideas to the 
Mississippi before its junction with the Missouri. Emo- 
tion may then be likened to the Mississippi after its 


junction — after feeling has combined with representor 
tive ideas. The emotional stream will not be broader 
and deeper than before. This analogy is employed only 
to make the distinction clearer. The student must re- 
member that mental powers are never actually as dis- 
tinct as two rivers before their union. ♦ ♦ ♦ The 
student must beware of thinking that we have done 
with feeling when we consider emotion. Just as the 
waters of the Missouri flow on until they reach the gulf, 
so does feeling run through every emotional state.'^ In 
the above analogy the term "representative ideas," of 
course, means the ideas of memory and imagination as 
explained in previous chapters. 

There is a close relation between emotion and the 
physical expression thereof — ^a peculiar mutual action 
and reaction between the mental state and the physical 
action accompanying it. Psychologists are divided re- 
garding this relation. One school holds that the phys- 
ical expression follows and results from the mental 
state. For instance, we hear or see something, and 
thereupon experience the feeling or emotion of anger. 
This emotional feeling reacts upon the body and causes 
an increased heart beat, a tight closing of the lips, a 
frown and lowered eyebrows, and clinched fists. Or 
we may perceive something which causes the feeling or 
emotion of fear, which reacts upon the body and pro- 


duces pallor, raising of the hair, dropping of the jaw, 
opening of the eyelids, trembling of the legs, etc. Ac- 
cording to this school, and the popular idea, the mental 
state precedes and causes the physical expression. 

But another school of psychology, of which the late 
Prof. William James is a leading authority, holds 
that the physical expression precedes and causes the 
mental state. For instance, in the cases above cited, 
the perception of the anger-causing or fear-causing 
sight first causes a reflex action upon the muscles, ac- 
cording to inherited race habits of expression. This 
muscular expression and activity, in turn, is held to 
react upon the mind and to cause the feeling or emotion 
of anger or fear, as the case may be. Professor James, 
in some of his works, makes a forcible argument in sup- 
port of this theory, and his opinions have influenced 
the scientific thought of the day upon this subject. 
Others, however, have sought to combat his theory by 
equally forcible argument, and the subject is still under 
lively and spirited discussion in psychological circles. 

Without taking sides in the above controversy, many 
psychologists proceed upon the hypothesis that there is 
a mutual action and reaction between emotional mental 
states and the appropriate physical expression thereof, 
each in a measure being the cause of the other, and each 
likewise being the effect of the other. For instance, in 



the cases above cited, the perception of the anger-pro- 
ducing or fear-producing sight causes, almost or quite 
simultaneously, the emotional mental state of anger or 
fear, as the case may be, and the physical expression 
thereof. Then rapidly ensues a series of mental and 
physical reactions. The mental state acts upon the 
physical expression and intensifies it. The physical 
expression in turn reacts upon the mental state and 
induces a more intense degree of the emotional feeling. 
And so on, until the mental state and physical expres- 
sion reach their highest point and then begin to subside 
from exhaustion of energy. This middle-ground con- 
ception meets all the requirements of the facts, and is 
probably more nearly correct than either extreme theory. 
Darwin in his classic work, *^The Expression of the 
Emotions in Man and Animals," has thrown a great 
light on the subject of the expression of emotion in 
physical motions. The Florentine scientist, Paolo 
Mantegazza, added to Darwin's work with ideas of his 
own and countless examples drawn from his own expe- 
rience and observation. The work of Frangois Delsarte, 
the founder of the school of expression which bears his 
name, is also a most valuable addition to the thought on 
this subject. The subject of the relation and reaction 
between emotional feeling and physical expression is a 
most fascinating one, and one in which we may expect 


interesting and valuable discoveries during the next 
twenty years. 

The relation and reaction above mentioned are inter- 
esting not only from the viewpoint of theory but also 
because of their practicable application in emotional de- 
velopment and training. It is an established truth of 
psychology that each physical expression of an emo- 
tional state serves to intensify the latter; it is pouring 
oil on the fire. Likewise, it is equally true that the 
repression of the physical expression of an emotion 
tends to restrain and inhibit the emotion itself. 

Halleck says : "If we watch a person growing angry, 
we shall see the emotion increase as he talks loud, 
frowns deeply, clinches his fist, and gesticulates wildly. 
Each expression of his passion is reflected back upon 
the original anger and adds fuel to the fire. If he 
resolutely inhibits the muscular expressions of his an- 
ger, it will not attain great intensity, and it will soon 
die a quiet death. ♦ ♦ ♦ Not without reason are those 
persons called cold blooded who habitually restrain as 
far as possible the expression of their emotion; who 
never frown or throw any feeling into their tones, even 
when a wrong inflicted upon some one demands ag- 
gressive measures. There is here no wave of bodily ex- 
pression to flow back and augment the emotional state." 

In this connection we call your attention to the 


familiar and oft-quoted passage from the works of 
Prof. William James: "Refuse to express a passion 
and it dies. Count ten before venting your anger and 
its occasion seems ridiculous. Whistling to keep up 
courage is no mere figure of speech. On the other hand, 
sit all day in a moping posture, sigh and reply to every- 
thing with a dismal voice, and your melancholy lingers. 
There is no more valuable precept in moral education 
than this, as all who have experience know: If we 
wish to conquer undesirable emotional tendencies in 
ourselves, we must assiduously, and in the first instance 
cold-bloodedly, go through the outward movements of 
those contrary dispositions which we prefer to cultivate. 
Smooth the brow, brighten the eye, contract the dorsal 
rather than the ventral aspect of the frame, and speak 
in a major key, and your heart must be frigid indeed 
if it does not gradually thaw.'* 

Along the same lines Halleck says: "Actors have 
frequently testified to the fact that emotion will arise 
if they go through the appropriate muscular movements. 
In talking to a character on the stage, if they clinch 
the fists and frown, they often find themselves becoming 
really angry; if they start with counterfeit laughter, 
they find themselves growing cheerful. A German pro- 
fessor says that he cannot walk with a schoolgirrs 
mincing step and air without feeling frivolous." 


The wise student will acquire a great control over his 
emotional nature if he will re-read and study the above 
statements and quotations until he has grasped their 
spirit and essence. In those few lines he is given a 
philosophy of self-control and self-mastery that will be 
worth much to him if he will but apply it in practice. 
Patience, perseverance, practice, and will are required, 
but the reward is great. Even to those who have not 
the persistency to apply this truth fully, there will be 
a partial reward if they will use it to the extent of 
restraining so far as possible any undue physical ex- 
pression of undesirable emotional excitement. 

Some writers seem to regard capacity for great emo- 
tional excitement and expression as a mark of a rich 
and full character or noble soul. This is far from be- 
ing true. While it is a fact that the cultivation of 
certain emotions tends to create a noble character and 
a full life, it is equally true that the tendency to "gush" 
and indulge in hysterical or sentimental excesses is a 
mark of an ill-controlled nature and a weak, rather than 
strong, character. Moreover, it is a fact that excess 
in emotional excitement and expression tends toward 
the dissipation of the finer and nobler feelings which 
otherwise would seek an outlet in actual doing and prac- 
tical action. In the language of the old Scotch engi- 
neer in the story, they are like the old locomotive which 


^^spends. sae much steam at the whustle that she hae 
nane left to gae by/' 

Emotional excitement and expression are largely de- 
pendent upon habit and indulgence, although there is 
a great difference, of course, in the emotional nature 
and tendencies of various persons. Emotions, like 
physical actions or intellectual processes, become habit- 
ual by repetition. And habit renders all physical or 
mental actions easy of repetition. Each time one mani- 
fests anger, the deeper the mental path is made, and 
the easier it is to travel that path the next time. In 
the same way each time that anger is conquered and 
inhibited, the easier will it be to restrain it the next 
time. In the same way desirable habits of emotion and 
expression may be formed. 

Another point in the cultivation, training, and re- 
straint of the emotions is that which has to do with 
the control of the ideas which we allow to come into the 
mind. Ideative habits may be formed — are formed, in 
fact, by the majority of persons. We may cultivate the 
habit of looking on the bright side of things; of looking 
for the best in those we meet; of expecting the best 
things instead of the worst. By resolutely refusing to 
give welcome to ideas calculated to arouse certain emo- 
tions, feelings, passions, desires, sentiments, or similar 
mental states, we may do much to prevent the arousing 


of the emotion itself. Emotions usually are called forth 
by some idea, and if we shut out the idea we may pre- 
vent the emotional feeling from appearing. In this 
connection the universal rule of psychology may be 
applied : A mental state may be inhibited or restrained 
by turning the attention to the opposite mental state. 

The control of the attention is really the control of 
every mental state. 

We may use the will in the direction of the control 
of the attention — ^the development and direction of 
voluntary attention — ^and thus actually control every 
phase of mental activity. The will is nearest to the 
ego, or central being of man, and the attention is the 
chief tool and instrument of the will. This fact cannot 
be repeated too often. If it is impressed upon the mind 
it will prove to be useful and valuable in many emer- 
gencies of mental life. He who controls his attention 
controls his mind, and in controlling his mind controls 


The Instinctive Emotions, 

MANT attempts to classify the emotions have 
been made by the psychologists, but the best 
authorities hold that beyond the purpose of 
ordinary convenience in considering the subject any 
classification is scientifically useless by reason of its 
incompleteness. As James cleverly puts it: ^'Any 
classification of the emotions is seen to be as true and 
as natural as any other, if it only serves some pur- 
pose." The difficulty attending the attempted classifi- 
cation arises from the fact that every emotion is more 
or less complex, and is made up of various feelings and 
shades of emotional excitement. Each emotion blends 
into others. Just as a few elements of matter may be 
grouped into hundreds of thousands of combinations, 
so the elements of feeling may be grouped into thou- 
sands of shades of emotion. It is said that the two 
elements of carbon and hydrogen form combinations 
resulting in five thousand varieties of material sub- 
stance, "from anthracite to marsh gas, from black coke 
to colorless naphtha.*' The same thing may be said of 
the emotional combinations formed from two principal 


elements of feeling. Moreover, the close distinction 
between sensation and feeling on the one hand, and 
between feeling and emotion on the other, serves to 
farther complicate the task. 

For the purposes of our consideration, let us divide 
the emotions into five general classes, as follows: (1) 
Instinctive emotions, (2) social emotions, (3) religious 
emotions, (4) aesthetic emotions, (5) intellectual emo- 
tions. We shall now consider each of the above five 
classes in turn. 

The Instinctivb Emotions. 
Instinct is defined as '^unconscious, involuntary, or 
imreasoning prompting to any action,'' or "the natural 
xmreasoning impulse by which an animal is guided to 
the performance of any action, without thought of im- 
proving the method.'' An authority says: 'TEnstinct 
is a natural impulse leading animals, even prior to all 
experience, to perform certain actions tending to the 
welfare of the individual or the perpetuation of the 
species, apparently without understanding the object 
at which they may be supposed to aim, or deliberating 
as to the best methods to employ. In many cases, as 
in the construction of the cells of the bee, there is a 
perfection about the result which reasoning man could 
not have equaled, except by an application of the higher 


mathematics to direct the operations carried out. Mr. 
Darwin considers that animals, in time past as now, 
have varied in their mental qualities, and that those 
variations are inherited. Instincts also vary slightly in 
a state of nature. This being so, natural selection can 
ultimately bring them to a high degree of perfection.'' 

It was formerly the fashion to ascribe instinct in the 
lower animals, and in man, to something akin to '^in- 
nate ideas'^ implanted in each species and thereafter 
continued by inheritance. But the application of the 
idea of evolution to the science of psychology has re- 
sulted in brushing away these old ideas. To-day it 
holds that that which we call ^^instinct" is the result 
of gradual development in the course of evolution, the 
accumulated experience of the race being stored away 
in the race memory, each individual adding a little 
thereto by his acquired habits and experiences. Psy- 
chologists now hold that the lower forms of these race 
tendencies are closely akin to purely reflex actions, and 
the higher forms, which are known as "instinctive emo- 
tions,'' are phenomena of the subconscious mind result- 
ing from race memory and race experience. 

Clodd says: "Instinct is the higher form of reflex 
action. The salmon migrates from sea to river; the 
bird makes its nest or migrates from one zone to an- 
other by an imvarying route, even leaving its young 


behind to perish; the bee builds its six-sided cell; the 
spider spins its web; the chick breaks its way through 
the shell, balances itself, and picks up grains of corn; 
the newborn babe sucks its mother^s breast — ^all in 
virtue of like acts on the part of their ancestors^ which, 
arising in the needs of the creature, and gradually be- 
coming automatic^ have not varied during long ages, 
the tendency to repeat them being transmitted within 
the germ from which insect, fish, bird, and man have 
severally sprung/' 

Schneider says: "It is a fact that men, especially 
in childhood, fear to go into a dark cavern, or a gloomy 
wood. This feeling of fear arises, to be sure, partly 
from the fact that we easily suspect that dangerous 
beasts may lurk in these localities — a suspicion due to 
stories we have heard and read. But, on the other 
hand, it is quite sure that this fear at a certain per- 
ception is also directly inherited. Children who have 
been carefully guarded from all ghost stories are never- 
theless terrified and cry if led into a dark place, espe- 
cially if sounds are made there. Even an adult can 
easily observe that an uncomfortable timidity steals 
over him in a lonely wood at night, although he may 
have the fixed conviction that not the slightest danger 
is near. This feeling of fear occurs in many men even 
in their own houses after dark, although it is much 


stronger in a dark cavem or forest. The fact of such 
instinctive fear is easily explicable when we consider 
that our savage ancestors through immemorable genera- 
tions were accustomed to meet with dangerous beasts 
in caverns, especially bears, and were for the most part 
attacked by such beasts during the night and in the 
woods, and that thus an inseparable association between 
the perceptions of darkness, caverns, woods, and fear 
took place, and was inherited." 

James says: ^^Nothing is commoner than the re- 
mark that man differs from lower creatures by the 
almost total absence of instincts, and the assumption 
of their work in him by reason. ♦ ♦ ♦ We may confi- 
dently say that however uncertain man^s reactions upon 
his environment may sometimes seem in comparison 
with those of the lower mammals, the uncertainty is 
probably not due to their possession of any principles 
of action which he lacks. On the contrary, man pos- 
sesses all the impulses that they have, and a great many 
more besides, ♦ ♦ ♦ High places cause fear of a pe- 
culiarly sickening sort, though here again individuals 
differ. The utterly blind instinctive character of the 
motor impulses here is shown by the fact that they are 
almost always entirely unreasonable, but that reason is 
powerless to suppress them. ♦ ♦ ♦ Certain ideas of 
supernatural agency, associated with real circumstances, 


produce a peculiar kind of horror. This horror is prob- 
ably explicable as the result of a combination of simple 
horrors. To bring the ghostly terror to its maximum, 
many unusual elements of the dreadful must combine, 
such as loneliness, darkness, inexplicable sounds, espe- 
cially of a dismal character, moving pictures half dis- 
cerned (or, if discerned, of dreadful aspect), and a 
vertiginous baflSing of the expectation. ♦ ♦ ♦ In view 
of the fact that cadaveric, reptilian, and underground 
horrors play so specific and constant a part in many 
nightmares and forms of delirium, it seems not alto- 
gether unwise to ask whether these forms of dreadful 
circumstance may not at a former period have been 
more normal objects of the environment than now. 
The evolutionist ought to have no diflBculty in explain- 
ing these terrors, and the scenery that provokes them, 
as relapses into the consciousness of the cave men, a 
consciousness usually overlaid in us by experiences of a 
more recent date." 

Instinctive emotion manifests as an impulse arising 
from the dim recesses of the feeling or emotional na- 
ture — ^an incentive toward a dimly conscious end. It 
differs from the almost purely automatic nature of 
certain forms of reflex process, for its beginning is a 
feeling arising from the subconscious regions, which 
strives to excite an activity of conscious volition. The 


feeling is from the subconscious, but the activity is 
conscious. The end may not be perceived in conscious- 
ness, or at least is but dimly perceived, but the action 
leading to the end is in full consciousness. Instinct 
is seen to have its origin in the past experiences of the 
race, transmitted by heredity and preserved in the race 
memory. It has for its object the preservation of the 
individual and of the species. Its end is often some- 
thing far removed in time from the moment, or the 
welfare of the species rather than that of the individual ; 
for instance, the caterpillar providing for its future 
states, or the bird building its nest, or the bees building 
cells and providing honey for their successors, for very 
few bees live to partake of the honey which they have 
gathered and stored — they are animated by "the spirit 
of the hive." 

The most elementary forms of the instinctive emo- 
tions are those which have to do with the preservation 
of the individual, his comfort, and personal physical 
welfare. This class of emotions comprises what are 
generally known as purely "selfish" feelings, having 
little or no concern for the welfare of others. In this 
class we find the emotional feelings which have to do 
with the satisfaction of hunger and thirst, the securing 
of comfortable quarters and warm clothing, and the 
spirit of combat and strife arising from the desire to 


obtain these. These elemental feelings had their birth 
early in the history of life, and indeed life itself de- 
pended very materially upon them for its preservation 
and continuance. It was necessary for the primitive 
living thing to be "selfish." When man appeared, only 
those survived who manifested these feelings strongly; 
the others were pushed to the wall and perished. Even 
in our civilization the man below the average in this 
dass of feelings will find it difficult to survive. 


The Passions* 

ARISING from the most elemental instinctive 
ZA emotions, we find what may be termed "the 
•^.-^ passions/^ By the term "passion^' is meant 
those strong feelings in which the elemental selfish 
instincts are manifested in relation to other persons, 
either in the phase of attraction or repulsion. In this 
class we find the elementary phases of love, and the 
feelings of hate, anger, jealousy, revenge, etc. This 
class of emotions usually manifests violently, as com- 
pared with the other emotions. The passions generally 
arise from 8elf-preservati6n, race preservation and re- 
production, self-interest, self-aggrandizement, etc., and 
may be regarded as a more complex phase of the ele- 
mental instinctive emotions. The elemental instinctive 
emotions of self-preservation and self -comfort cause the 
individual to experience and manifest the passional 
emotions of desire for combat, anger, hate, revenge, etc., 
while the instinctive emotions leading to reproduction 
and continuance of the race give rise to the passional 
emotions of sexual love, jealousy, etc. The desire to 
attract the other sex increases ambition, vanity, love of 
display, and other feelings. 


, It is only when this class of emotions blends with the 
higher emotions that the passions become purified and 
refined. But it must not be forgotten that these emo- 
tions were very necessary for the welfare of the race 
in the early stage of its evolution^ and that they still 
play an active part in human life^ under the greater or 
less restraint imposed by civilized society. Nor should 
it be forgotten that from these emotions have evolved 
the highest love of one human being for another. From 
instinctive sexual love and the ^^racial instinct'^ have 
developed the higher affection of man for woman, and 
woman for man, in all their beautiful manifestations — 
and the love of the parent for the child, and the love 
of the child for the parent. The first manifestation 
of altruism arises in the love of the living creature for 
its mate, and in the love of the parents for their off- 
spring. In certain forms of life where the association 
of the sexes is merely for the moment, and is not fol- 
lowed by protection, mutual aid, and companionship, 
there is found an absence of mutual affection of any 
kind, the only feeling being an elemental reproductive 
instinct bringing the male and female together for the 
moment — an almost purely reflex activity. In the same 
way, in the cases of certain animals (the rattlesnake, 
for instance) in which the young are able to protect 
themselves from birth, there is seen a total absence of 


parental affection or the return thereof. Human love 
between the sexes, in its higher and lower degrees, is 
a natural evolution from passional emotion of a low 
order, due to the growth of social, ethical, moral, and 
aesthetic emotion arising from the necessities of tfie 
increasing complexity and development of human life. 
f The simpler forms of passional emotion are almost 
entirely instinctive in their manifestation. Indeed, in 
many cases, there appears to be but little more than 
a high form of reflex nervous action. The following 
words of William James give us an interesting view of 
this fact of life : "The cat runs after the mouse, runs 
or shows fight before the dog, avoids falling from walls 
and trees, shuns fire and water, not because he has any 
notion either of life or of death or of self-preservation. 
He acts in each case separately and simply because he 
cannot help it; being so framed that when that par- 
ticular running thing called a mouse appears in his 
field of vision, he mtLst pursue; that when that partic- 
ular barking and obstreperous thing called a dog ap- 
pears there, he must retire if at a distance, and scratch 
if close by; that he must withdraw his feet from water, 
and his face from flame, etc. * * * Now, why do the 
various animals do what seem to us such strange things 
in the presence of such outlandish stimuli? Why does 
the hen, for instance, submit herself to the tedium of 


incubating such a fearfully uninteresting set of objects 
as a nestful of eggs^ unless she have some sort of pro- 
phetic inkling of the result? The only answer is ad 
hominem. We can only interpret the instinct of brutes 
by what we know of instincts in ourselves. Why do 
men always lie down, when they can, on soft beds rather 
than on soft floors? Why do they sit around a stove 
on a cold day? Why, in a room, do they place them- 
selves, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, with their 
faces toward its middle rather than to the wall? Why 
does the maiden interest the youth so much that every- 
thing about her seems more important and significant 
than anything else in the world? Nothing more can 
be said than that these are human ways, and that every 
creature likes its own ways, and takes to following them 
as a matter of course. Science may come and consider 
these ways, and find that most of them are useful. But 
it is not for the sake of their utility that they are 
followed, but because at the moment of following them 
we feel that it is the only appropriate and natural thing 
to do. Not one man in a million, when taking his 
dinner, ever thinks of its utility. He eats because the 
food tastes good, and makes him want more. If you 
should ask him why he wants to eat more of what tastes 
like that, instead of revering you as a philosopher he 
will probably laugh at you for a fool.'^ 



James continues : "It takes, in short, what Berkeley 
called a mind debauched by learning to carry the proc- 
ess of making the natural seem strange, so far as to 
ask tiie why of any instinctive human act. To the 
metaphysician alone can such questions arise as : Why 
do we smile when pleased and not scowl? Why are we 
unable to talk to a crowd as to a single friend? Why 
does a particular maiden turn our wits upside down? 
The common man can only say, 'Of course we smile, 
of course our heart palpitates at the sight of the crowd, 
of course we love the maiden — that beautiful soul clad 
in that perfect form, so palpably and flagrantly made 
from all eternity to be loved !' And so, probably, does 
each animal feel about the particular things it tends to 
do in the presence of particular objects. They, too, 
are a priori syntheses. To the lion it is the lioness 
which is made to be loved; to the bear, the she bear. To 
the broody hen the notion would seem monstrous that 
there should be a creature in the world to whom a nest- 
ful of eggs was not the utterly fascinating, precious, 
and never-to-be-too-much-sat-upon object which it is to 
her. Thus we may be sure that however mysterious 
some animals' instincts may appear to us, our instincts 
will appear no less mysterious to them. And we may 
conclude that, to the animal which obeys it, every im- 
pulse and every step of that instinct shines with its own 


sufficient light, and seems at the momeiit the only ex- 
ternally right and proper thing to do. It may be done 
for its own sake exclusively/* 

One has very little need, as a rule, to develop the 
passional emotions. Instinct has taken pretty good 
care that we shall have our share of this class of feel- 
ings. But there is a need to train, restrain, govern, 
and control these emotions, for the conditions which 
brought about their original being have changed. Our 
social conventions require that we should subordinate 
these passional feelings, to some extent at least. Soci- 
ety insists that we must restrict our love impulses to 
certain limits and to certain quarters, and that we sub- 
due our anger and hate, except toward the enemies of 
our land, the disturbers of public peace, and the men- 
acers of the social conventions of our time and land. 
The public welfare requires that we inhibit our fighting 
impulses, except in cases of self-defense or war. Public 
policy requires that we keep our ambitions within rea- 
sonable limits, which limits change from time to time, 
of course. In short, society has stepped in and insisted 
that man, as a social being, must not only acquire a 
social conscience but must also develop sociable emo- 
tions and ^inhibit his unsociable ones. The evolution 
of man's nature has caused him unconsciously to modify 
his elemental, instinctive, passional emotions, and sub- 


ordinate them to the dictates of social, ettucal, morale 
and aesthetic feelings and ideals, and to intellectiial con- 
siderations. Eyen the original elemental instincts of 
the lower animals have heen modified Vy reason of the 
social requirements of the pack, herd, or drove, nntil 
the modified instinct is now the ruling force. 

The general principles of emotional control, restraint, 
and mastery, as given in a preceding chapter, are ap- 
plicable to the particular class of emotions now under 
consideration here. 

(1) By refraining from the physical 
expression, one may at least partially in- 
hibit the emotion. 

(2) By refusing to create the habit, 
one may more easily manifest control. 

(3) By refusing to dwell upon the idea 
or mental picture of the exciting object, 
one may lessen the stimulus. 

(4) By cultivating the opposite class 
of emotions, one may inhibit any class of 

(5) And, finally, by acquiring a con- 
trol of the attention, by means of the will, 
one has the reins firmly in hand, and may 
drive or hold back the steeds of passion 
as he wills. 


The passions are like fiery horses, useful if well 
under control, but most dangerous if the control is lost. 
The ego is the driver, the will his hands, attention the 
reins, habit the bit, and the passions the horses. To 
drive the chariot of life under social conditions, the ego 
must have strong hands (will) to tighten or loosen the 
reins of attention. He must also employ a well designed 
and shaped bit of habit. Without strong hands, good 
reins, and well-adjusted bit, the fiery steeds of passion 
may gain control and, running away, dash the chariot 
and its driver over the precipice and on to the jagged 
rocks below. 

The Social Emotions. 

A man became a social animal he developed new 
traits of character^ new habits of action^ 
new ideals^ new customs^ and consequently new 
emotions. Emotions long entertained and long mani- 
fested by the race become more or less instinctive, and 
are passed along in the form of either (a) inherited 
stimulus akin to, but lesser in degree and force than, the 
more elemental emotions; or (b) of inherited tendency 
to manifest the acquired emotional feeling upon the 
presentation of sufficiently strong stimuli. Hence arises 
that which we have called ^^the social emotions.'^ 

Under the classification of ^Hhe social emotions^' are 
those acquired tendencies of action and feeling of the 
race which are more or less altruistic, and are con- 
cerned with the welfare of others and one's duties and 
obligations toward society and our fellow men. In this 
class are found the emotions which impel us to perform 
what we consider or feel to be our duty toward our 
neighbors, and our obligations and duty toward the 
state, as expressed in its laws, the customs of men of 
our country, or the ideals of the community. In an- 


other phase it manifests as sympathy, fellow feeling, 
and ^Tdndness" in general. In its first phase we find 
civic virtue, law-abiding inclination, honesty, "square 
dealing,^' and patriotism; in its second phase we find 
sympathy for others, charity, mutual aid, the allevia- 
tion of poverty and suffering, the erection of asylums 
for orphans and the aged, hospitals for the sick, and 
the formation of societies for general charitable work. 
In many cases we find the social, ethical, and moral 
emotions closely allied with religious emotion, and by 
many these are supposed to be practically identical, but 
there is a vast difference in spite of their frequent asso- 
ciation. For instance, we find many persons of high 
oivic virtue, of exalted moral ideals, and manifesting 
ethical qualities of the most advanced t3rpe, who are 
l^acking in the ordinary religious feelings. On the 
other hand, we too frequently find persons professing 
,^reat religious zeal, and apparently experiencing the 
zmost intense religious emotional feeling, who are de- 
d&cient in social, civic, ethical, and moral qualities, in 
the best sense of these terms. The aim of all religion 
worthy of the name, however, is to encourage ethical 
and moral as well as religious emotions. 

We must here make the distinction between those 
manifesting the actions termed ethical and moral te- 
cause they feel that way, and those who merely comply 


with the conventional requirements because they fear 
the consequences of their violation. The first class have 
the true social^ ethical, and moral feelings, tastes, ideals, 
and inclinations; while the second manifest merely the 
elementary feelings of self-preservation and selfish pru- 
dence. The first class are ^^good" because they feel 
that way and find it natural to be so; while the others 
are "good" merely because they have to be or be pun- 
ished by legal penalty or public opinion, loss of prestige, 
loss of financial support, etc. 

The social, moral, and ethical emotions are believed 
to have arisen in the race by reason of the association 
of individuals in communities and the rise of the neces- 
sity for mutual aid and forbearance. Even many of the 
species of the lower animals have social, moral, or eth- 
ical codes of their own, based on the experience of the 
species or family, infractions of which they punish 
severely. In the same way sympathy and the altruistic 
feelings are supposed to have arisen. The community 
of interest and understanding in the tribe, family, or 
clan brought not only the feeling of natural defense 
and protection but also the finer, inner sympathetic 
feeling of the pains and sufferings of their associates. 
This, in the progress of the race, has developed into 
broader and more complex ideals and feelings. 

Theology explains the moral feelings as resulting 


from conscience, which it holds to be a special faculty 
of the mind, or soul, divinely given. Science, while 
admitting the existence of the state of feelings which 
we call ^'conscience/' denies its supernatural origin, and 
ascribes it to the result of evolution, heredity, experi- 
ence, education, and suggestion. Conscience, according 
to science, is a compound of intellectual and emotional 
states. Conscience is not an invariable or infallible 
guide, but depends entirely upon the heredity, educa- 
iion, experience, and environment of the individual. 
It accompanies the moral and ethical codes of the race, 
which vary with time and with country. Actions which 
were thought right a century ago are condemned now ; 
likewise, things condemned a century ago are thought 
right now. What is commended in Turkey is con- 
demned in England, and vice versa. Moral tastes and 
ideals, like aesthetic ones, vary with time and country. 
There is no absolute code which has been always true, 
in all places. There is an evolution in the ideals of 
morals and ethics as in everything else, and "conscience" 
and the moral and ethical emotions accompany the 
changing ideals. 

Many of the moral and ethical principles originally 
arose from necessity or utility, but have since developed 
into natural, spontaneous feeling on the part of the 
race. It is held that the race is rapidly developing a 


"social conscience" which will cause the wiping out of 
many social conditions which are now the disgrace of 
civilization. It is predicted that in time the race will 
look back upon the existence of poverty in our civiliza- 
tion as our generation now looks back upon the existence 
of slavery, imprisonment for debt, capital punishment 
for the theft of a loaf of bread, the killing of prisoners 
of war, etc. It is thought that, in time, wars of con- 
quest will be deemed as utterly immoral as to-day is 
regarded the murder of a body of men by a band of 
pirates or bandits. In the same way the economic slav- 
ery of to-day will be seen as immoral as now seems the 
physical slavery of the past. In not far distant time 
it will seem incredible that society could have ever 
allowed one of its members to die of hunger in the 
streets, or of poverty and inattention in the sick room 
of the hovel. Not only will the ideals and feelings of 
ethical and moral responsibility change and evolve, but 
the feelings of personal sympathy will evolve in accord- 
ance therewith. At least such is the dream and proph- 
ecy of some of the world's greatest thinkers. 

The social, ethical, and moral emotions may be devel- 
oped by a study of the evolution and meaning of society 
on the one hand, and the perception of the condition of 
the lives of less fortunate individuals on the other. The 
first will awaken new ideas of the history and real 


ffleaning of social association and mutual intercourse^ 
and will develop a new sense of responsibility, duty, 
and civic and social pride. The second will awaken 
understanding and sympathy, and a desire to do what 
one can to help those who are "the under dog,^^ and 
also to bring about a better state of affairs in general. 
The study of history and civilization, of sociology and 
civics, will do much in the first direction. The study 
of human-kind, and its life problems and condition, 
will do the same in the second case. In both cases 
there will be awakened a new sense of "right and 
wrong'' — a new conception of "ought and ought not" — 
regarding one's relations to the race, society, and his 
fellow beings. 

Let no one deceive himself or herself by the smug 
assumption that the race has entirely emerged from 
barbarism and is now on the top wave of civilization. 
The truth, as known to all careful and conscientious 
thinkers, is that we are but half civilized, if, indeed, 
that much. Many of our customs and conventions are 
those of a half-barbarous people. Our ideals are low, 
our customs often vile. We lack not only high ideals 
but in many cases we show a lack of sanity in our 
social conventions. But evolution is moving us slowly 
ahead. A better day is dawning. The signs are in the 
air, to be seen by all thoughtful men. Civilization is 


climbing the ladder, aided by the evolution of the 
social, ethical, and moral emotions and the development 
of the intellect. 

In connection with this phase of the emotions, we 
invite the student to consider the following excellent 
words of Professor Davidson in his ^'History of Greek 
Education": "It is not enough for a man to under- 
stand the conditions of rational life in his own time. 
He must likewise love these conditions and hate what- 
ever leads to life of an opposite kind. This is only 
another way of saying that he must love the good and 
hate the evil; for the good is simply what conduces to 
rational or moral life, and the evil simply what leads 
away from it. It is perfectly obvious, as soon as it is 
pointed out, that all immoral life is due to a false 
distribution of affection, which again is often, though 
by no means always, due to a want of intellectual cul- 
tivation. He that attributes to anything a value greater 
or less than it really possesses, in the order of things, 
has already placed himself in a false relation to it, and 
will certainly, when he comes to act with reference to 
it, act immorally.'' 


The Religious Emotions. 

BY **the religious emotions'^ is meant that class 
of emotional feeling arising from the faith and 
belief in, or consciousness of the presence of, 
supernatural beings, powers, entities, or forces. This 
form of emotion is regarded as distinct from the ethical 
and moral emotions, although frequently found in con- 
nection therewith. liikewise, it is independent of any 
special form of intellectual belief, for it is far more 
fundamental and often exists without creed, philosophy, 
or stated belief, the only maiiifestation in such cases 
being a '^feeling'^ of the existence of supernatural be- 
ings, forces, and powers to which man has a relation 
and to which he owes obedience. To those who may 
think that this is too narrow a conception of religious 
emotion we refer the following definition of "religion" 
from the dictionaries: "The acts or feelings which 
result from the belief of a god, or gods, having superior 
control over matter, life, or destiny. Eeligion is sub- 
jective, designating the feelings and acts of men which 
relate to God; theology is objective, denoting the science 
^hich investigates the existence, laws, and attributes 


of God;" or (objectively) *^the outer form and embodi- 
ment which the inward spirit of a true or a false devo- 
tion assumes," (subjectively) ''the feeling of veneration 
with which the worshiper regards the Being he adores." 

Darwin, in his ''Descent of Man," says that the 
feeling of religious devotion is a highly complex one, 
consisting of love, complete submission to an exalted 
and mysterious superior, a strong sense of dependence, 
fear, reverence, gratitude, hope for the future, and 
perhaps other elements. He is of the opinion that no 
man can experience so complex an emotion imtil ad- 
vanced in his intellectual and moral faculties to at least 
a moderately high level. The authorities generally 
agree with Darwin, although the more recent study of 
the history of religion has shown that religious feeling 
has a far more primitive origin than that indicated by 

It is true that the lower animals are not deemed 
capable of anjrthing approaching religious feeling, un- 
less there is a feeling approaching it in the attitude of 
the dog and horse and other domestic animals toward 
their masters. But man, as soon as he is able to 
attribute natural phenomena to a supernatural cause 
and power, manifests a crude religious feeling and 
emotion. He begins by believing in, fearing, and wor- 
shiping natural forces and objects, such as the sun, the 


moon^ the wind^ thimder and lightning^ the ocean^ riv- 
ers, mountains, etc. It is claimed that there is no 
natural object that has not been deified and worshiped 
by some people at some time in the history of the race. 
Later, man acquired the anthropomorphic conception 
of deities and created many gods in his own image, 
endowing them with his own attributes, qualities, and 
characteristics. The mental characteristics and morals 
of a people can always be ascertained by a knowledge 
of the average conception of deity held by them. Poly- 
theism, or the belief in many gods, was succeeded by 
monotheism, or belief in one god. 

Monotheism ranges from the crudest conception of 
a manlike god to the highest conception of a spiritual 
Being transcending all human qualities, attributes, or 
characteristics. Man began by believing in many god 
things, then in many god persons, then in a one god- 
person, then in one God who is a spirit, then in One 
Universal Spirit which is God. It is a far cry from the 
savage, manlike god of old to the conception of the 
Universal Spirit of the *^God-drunken philosopher,^' 
Spinoza. The extreme of religious belief is that which 
holds that *'there is nothing but God — ^all else is illu- 
sion,'* of pantheistic idealism. Buddhism (at least in 
its original form) discarded the idea of a Supreme 
Being, and held that Ultimate Eeality is but Universal 


Law; hence the accusation that Buddhism is an ^^athe- 
istic religion/' although it is one of the world's greatest 
religions, having over 400,000,000 followers. 

But the beliefs of the religious person may be con- 
sidered as resulting from intellectual processes; his 
religious feelings and emotions arise from another part 
of his mental being. It is the testimony of the author- 
ities of all religions that religious conviction is an inner 
experience rather than an intellectual conception. The 
emotional element is always active in religious mani- 
festations everywhere. The purely intellectual religion 
is naught but a philosophy. Eeligion without feeling 
and emotion is an anomaly. In all true religion there 
exists a feeling of inner assurance and faith, love, awe, 
dependence, submission, reverence, gratitude, hope, and 
perhaps fear. The emotional element must always be 
present, not necessarily in the form of emotional excess, 
as in the case of revival hysteria or the dance of the 
whirling dervishes, but at least in the form of the calm, 
fervent feeling of "that peace which passeth under- 
standing." When religion departs from the emotional 
phase it becomes merely a "school of philosophy," or an 
"ethical culture society." 

The student must not lose sight of the uplifting 
influence of true religious emotion by reason of his 
knowledge of its lowly origin. Like the lotus, which 


las its roots in the slimy, filthy mud of the river, and 
its stem in the muddy, stagnant, and foul waters thereof, 
but its beautiful flower unfolded in the clear air and 
facing the sun, so is religious feeling responsible for 
some of the most beautiful and uplifting ideals and 
actions of the race. If its origin and history contain 
much that is not consistent with the highest ideals of 
the race to-day, it is not the fault of religion but of 
the race itself. Eeligion, like all else in the universal 
manifestation, is under the laws of evolution, growth, 
and development. What the religion of the future may 
be, we know not. But the prophets of the race are 
dreaming visions of a religion as much higher than that 
of to-day as the latter is higher than the crude fetich- 
ism of the savage. 

The following quotation from John Fiske's "Through 
Nature to God" is appropriate in this place. Fiske 
says: "My aim is to show that Hhat other influence,' 
that inward conviction, the craving for a final cause, 
the theistic assumption, is itself one of the master facts 
of the universe, and as much entitled to respect as any 
fact in physical nature can possibly be. The argument 
flashed upon me about ten years ago while reading 
Herbert Spencer's controversy with Frederic Harrison 
concerning the nature and reality of religion. Because 
Spencer derived historically the greater part of modern 


belief in an Unseen World from the savage's primeval 
world of dreams and ghosts, some of his critics main- 
tained that logical consistency required him to dismiss 
the modem belief as utterly false; otherwise he would 
be guilty of seeking to evolve truth from falsehood. 
^By no means/ replied Spencer. ^Contrariwise, the ul- 
timate form of the religious consciousness is the final 
development of a consciousness which at the outset 
contained a germ of truth obscured by multitudinous 
errors.' " Fiske, in this connection, quotes the Tenny- 
sonian question: — 

^^ *Who forged that other influence, 
That heat of inward evidence. 
By which he doubts against the sense ?' '' 

The religious emotions may be developed by allowing 
the mind to dwell upon the Power underlying the 
imiverse of fleeting, changing forms; by reading prose 
and poetry in which an appeal is made to the religious 
instinct; by listening to music which awakens the emo- 
tion of reverence and awe; and, finally, by meditating 
upon the inner spirit immanent in every living being. 
As an old Hindu sage once said: "There are many 
paths by which men arrive at a knowledge of the pres- 
ence of God, but there is but one goal and destination." 



The Aesthetic Emotions. 

BY **the aesthetic emotions" is meant those emo- 
tional feelings which are concerned with the 
perception of beauty or taste, and by reason of 
which we ^*like" or "dislike" certain perceptions of 
sensory impressions. In order to get a clearer idea, let 
us consider what is meant by "beauty" and "taste." 

"Beauty^^ is defined as "that quality or assemblage 
of qualities in an object which gives the eye or the ear 
intense pleasure; or that characteristic in an object 
which gratifies the intellect or moral feeling." "Taste" 
(in this sense of the term) is defined as "nice percep- 
tion, or the power of perceiving and relishing excellence 
in human performances; the power of appreciating the 
finer qualities of art; the faculty of discerning beauty, 
order, congruity, proportion, symmetry, or whatever 
constitutes excellence, particularly in the fine arts or 
literature; the faculty of the mind by which we both 
perceive and enjoy whatever is beautiful or sublime 
in the works of nature and art. The possession of 
taste insures grace and beauty in the works of an artist, 
and the avoidance of all that is low or mean. It is as 


often the result of an innate sense of beauty or pro- 
priety as of art education^ and no genius can com- 
pensate for the want of it. * * * Tastes differ so much 
among individuals^ nations, or in different ages and 
conditions of civilization that it is utterly impossible 
to set up a standard of taste applicable to all men and 
to all stages in the evolution of society." 

The aesthetic sense, feeling, and emotion are products 
of the later stages of the evolution of the mind of man. 
Their roots, however, may be seen in the crude attempts 
at decoration and adornment in the savage, and still 
further back in the tendency of certain birds to adorn 
their nests or ^T)owers." Moreover, some sense of beauty 
must exist in the lower animals, which are influenced 
thereby in the selection of their mates, the bright plum- 
age of the birds, and the coloring of the insects and 
higher animals evidencing the existence of at least a 
primitive aesthetic sense. Herbert Spencer says that 
one characteristic of the aesthetic feelings is that they 
are separated from the functions vitally requisite and 
necessary to sustain life, and it is not until the latter 
are reasonably well satisfied that the former begin to 
manifest in force. 

The authorities hold that the basic element concerned 
in the manifestation of the aesthetic emotional feeling 
is the sensory element, which consists of the pleasure 


arising from the perception of objects of vision or hear- 
ing which are deemed beautifnl. There is a certain 
nervous satisfaction which arises from the perception 
of the sensation of the sight of a beautiful thing, or of 
the hearing of beautiful sound. Just why certain sights 
prove agreeable and others disagreeable, or certain 
sounds pleasant and others unpleasant, is very difficult 
to determine. Association and habit may have some- 
thing to do with the beauty of sight object, and there 
may be natural harmony of vibration in colors as there 
is in sound. In the case of sounds there is undoubtedly 
a natural harmony between the vibrations of certain 
notes of the scale and inharmony between others. Some 
have held that the secret of the enjoyment of music is 
found in the natural appreciation of rhythm, as rhythm 
is a cosmic manifestation evident in everything from 
great to small. But these theories do not account for 
the differences existing in the tastes regarding color 
and music manifested by different individuals, races, 
and classes of people. 

Grant Allen says: ^The vulgar are pleased with 
great masses of color, especially red, orange, and purple, 
which give their coarse, nervous organization the requi- 
site stimulus. The refined, with nerves of less caliber, 
but greater discriminativeness, require delicate com- 
binations of complementaries and prefer neutral tints 


to the glare of the primary hues. Children and savages 
love to dress in all the colors of the rainbow/' In the 
same way persons of certain types of taste are pleased 
with ^^rag time" and cheap, rollicking songs or dances, 
while others shudder at these and find delight in the 
classic productions of the great composers. 

There is also the intellectual element to be reckoned 
with in the aesthetic emotions. The intellect must dis- 
cover the beauty in certain objects before the emotion is 
aroused by the perception. Halleck says : "Every time 
the mind discerns unity amid variety, order, rhythm, 
proportion, or symmetry, an aesthetic emotion arises. 
* * * The traveler with a trained intellect will see far 
more beauty than an ignorant one. In looking at a 
cathedral, a large part of the aesthetic enjoyment comes 
from tracing out the symmetry, from comparing part 
with part. Not until this process is complete will the 
full beauty of the structure as a whole be perceived. 
If the traveler knows something of mediaeval architec- 
ture before starting on his European trip, he will see 
far more beauty. The opposite of the aesthetic, which 
we call the ugly, is the unsymmetrical, the disorderly — 
that in which we can discover no rhythm, plan, or 

The element of associative suggestion also enters into 
the manifestation of aesthetic emotional feeling. The 


mind accepts the suggestion of the beauty of certain 
styles of art, or the excellence of certain classes of music. 
There are fashions in art and music, as in clothes, and 
what is thought beautiful to-day may be deemed hide- 
ous to-morrow. This is not entirely due to the evolu- 
tion of taste, for in many cases the old fashions are 
revived and again deemed beautiful. There is, more- 
over, the effect of the association of the object of emo- 
tion with certain events or persons. This association 
renders the thing popular, and therefore agreeable and 
beautiful for the time being. The suggestion in a story 
will often cause the beauty of a certain scene, or the 
harmony of a certain piece of music, to dawn upon 
thousands of persons. Some noted person sets the seal 
of approval upon a certain picture or musical composi- 
tion and lo ! the multitude calls it beautiful. It must 
not be supposed, however, that the crowd always coun- 
terfeits this sense of beauty and excellence which has 
been suggested to it. On the contrary, genuine aesthetic 
feeling often results from the discovery so made. 

There is style and fashion in the use of words, result- 
ing from fashion, which gives rise to aesthetic feelings 
regarding them. These feelings do not arise from the 
consideration of the nature of the object expressed by 
the word ; of two words designating the same thing, one 
causes disgust and the other at least passive tolerance. 


For instance, in speaking of the sensible moisture which 
is emitted from the pores of the skin, we may use either 
of the respective terms "sweat" or "perspiration." Both 
mean the same thing, and have an equally respectable 
origin. But to many persons the word "sweat^^ causes 
unpleasant aesthetic emotion, while the word "perspira- 
tion" is accepted without remonstrance. Some persons 
abhor the term "victuals," while "viands" or "food" 
are accepted without protest. There is often an un- 
pleasant, low, vulgar association connected with some 
words ^hich accounts for the disfavor with which they 
are received, and which association is absent from the 
more "polite" terms employed to indicate the same 
thing. But in other cases there is nothing but the 
simple suggestion of fashion and style to account for 
the aesthetic acceptance or rejection. 

It is possible that some psychologist of the future will 
establish the truth of the theory now tentatively ad- 
vanced by a few investigators, namely, that taste and 
the sense of beauty depend almost entirely upon the 
element of suggestion, manifested as association, influ- 
ence of authority, habit, fashion, imitation, etc. It is 
known that the emotional nature is peculiarly liable to 
suggestion, and that tastes may be created or destroyed 
by repeated suggestion under the most favorable cir- 
cumstances. It is thought likely that if we could trace 


back to its roots every emotion of taste, we would find 
it arising from some associative, suggestive influence 
connected with another and more elemental class of 

Begarding the fact that there is no universal stand- 
ard of taste or beauty, Halleck says: 'It has been 
said that aesthetics cannot be treated in a scientific way 
because there is no standard of taste. 'De gusttbvs non 
est disputandum' ('there is no disputing about tastes') 
is an old proverb. Of two equally intelligent persons, 
the one may like a certain book, the other dislike it. 
* * * While it is true that the standard of taste is a 
varying one within certain limits, it is no more so than 
that of morals. As men's nervous systems, education, 
and associations differ, we may scientifically conclude 
that their tastes must differ. The greater the uniform- 
ity in the factors the less does the product vary. On 
the other hand, within certain limits, the standard of 
aesthetics is relatively uniform. It is fixed by the ma- 
jority of intelligent people of any age and country. To 
estimate the standard by which to judge of the correct- 
ness of language or of the literary taste of any era, we 
examine the conversations of the best speakers, the 
works of the standard writers." 

The aesthetic emotions may be developed and culti- 
vated by exercise and practice, and particularly by asso- 


elation and familiarity with beautiful things, and with 
those who have ^%ood taste/' Appreciation of beauty 
is more or less contagious, up to a certain point of 
development, at least, and if one wishes to recognize, 
understand, and appreciate beauty, he should go where 
beauty is, and where its votaries are gathered. The 
study of standard works of art, or objects of nature, or 
the best productions of the composers of music, will do 
much to develop and unfold one's higher aesthetic feel- 
ings and understanding. 

It is claimed by some of the best authorities that to 
develop the finer and higher aesthetic feelings and un- 
derstanding we must learn to find beauty and excellence 
in things removed from ourselves or our selfish inter- 
ests. The narrow, selfish emotions kill the aesthetic 
feelings — the two cannot exist together. The person 
whose thoughts are centered on himself or herself very 
rarely finds beauty or excellence in works of art or 
music. Grant Allen well sums up the subject in the 
following words : "Oood taste is the progressive product 
of progressing fineness and discrimination in the nerves, 
educated attention, high and nolle emotional constitu- 
tion, and increasing intellectual faculties/* 


The Intellectual Emotions. 

BY *^the intellectual emotions'' is meant that class 
of emotional feeling resulting from the pres- 
ence of objects of intellectual interest. This 
class of emotions depends for its satisfaction upon the 
exercise of the intellectual faculties, from the most 
simple to the most complex, and including perception, 
memory, imagination, reason, judgment, and all the 
logical faculties. Those who are accustomed to employ- 
ing the mind through voluntary attention, particularly 
in the direction of creative ideation or constructive 
imagination, experience these emotions to a greater or 
less degree. 

The exercise of perception, if we are skilled therein, 
gives us a pleasurable feeling, and if we succeed in mak- 
ing an interesting or important discovery by reason 
thereof, we experience a strong degree of emotional 
satisfaction. Likewise, we experience agreeable feelings 
when we are able to remember distinctly something 
which might well have been forgotten, or when we suc- 
ceed in recalling something which had escaped our 
memory for the moment. In the same way the exercise 


of the imagination is a source of great pleasure in many 
cases in the direction of writing, planning, inventing, 
or other creative processes, or even in the building of 
air castles. The exercise of the logical faculties gives 
great pleasure to those in whom these faculties are well 

Halleck well says : ^There was probably not a hap- 
pier moment in Newton's life than when he had suc- 
ceeded in demonstrating that the same power which 
caused the apple to fall held the moon and the planets 
in their orbits. When Watts discovered that steam 
might be harnessed like a horse, when an inventor suc- 
ceeds in perfecting a labor-lightening device, whenever 
an obscurity is cleared away, the reason for a thing 
understood, and a baffling instance brought under a 
general law, intellectual emotion results.'^ 

The pleasurable feelings we experience upon the read- 
ing of a good book, or the discovery of real poetry, are 
forms of intellectual emotion. The same class of emo- 
tional feeling is aroused when we witness a good play. 
Among other instances of this class we mention the 
perception of clever work of any kind, intricate machin- 
ery, ingenious devices, helpful improvements, or other 
works of man which indicate the existence of thought 
and inventive ability in the designer or builder. To 
appreciate mental work of this kind we must bring a 


mind developed along the same or similar lines. It has 
well been said that before one can take away anything 
from a book he must bring something to it. It takes 
mentality to recognize and appreciate mentality or the 
work of mentality. 

The study of scientific subjects is a source of great 
pleasure to those who are inclined to such pursuits. 
To the scientific mind the study of the latest work on 
the favorite branch gives a joy which nothing else is 
capable of arousing. To the philosopher the works of 
other philosophers of the same school give intense satis- 

It is claimed that the sense of humor and wit is an 
intellectual emotion, for it depends upon the detection 
of the ludicrous features of a happening. Certain psy- 
chologists have held that the distinctive element of 
humor is the feeling attendant upon the perception of 
incongruity; while that of wit is the feeling of superior- 
ity on the part of the witty person, and the correspond- 
ing chagrin of the object ,of his wit. It would seem, 
however, that the appreciation of wit must depend upon 
the intellectual perception of cleverness of expression 
and the pleasure resulting from the discovery thereof, 
and that the feeling of humor is aroused principally by 
reason of the incongruous element; the feeling of self- 
satisfaction as contrasted with the discomfiture of the 


other person belongs to the more selfish emotions. An 
authority says: "Humor is a mental faculty which 
tends to discover incongruous resemblances between 
things which essentially differ, or essential differences 
between things put forth as the same, the result being 
internal mirth or an outburst of laughter. Wit does 
so likewise, but the two are different. Humor has deep 
human sympathy, and loves men while raising a laugh 
against their weaknesses. Wit is deficient in sympathy, 
and there is often a sting in its ridicule. Somewhat 
contemptuous of mankind, it has not the patience to 
study them thoroughly, but must content itself with 
noting superficial resemblances or differences. Humor 
is patient and keenly observant, and penetrates beneath 
the surface; while, therefore, the sallies of wit are often 
one-sided and unfair, those of humor are, as a rule, just 
and wise.'' 

The development and cultivation of the intellectual 
emotions depend, of course, upon education, training, 
exercise, and practice. The cultivation of the intellect 
(which has been referred to, in part, in the previous 
parts of this book, and which will be again considered 
in the chapters devoted to the intellect) results in the 
development and cultivation of the emotions accom- 
panying intellectual effort. In a general way, however, 
it may be said that the reading of the best works of 


fiction^ science, and philosophy will bring out in time 
the best form of intellectual enjoyment and feeling. 
The highest gives the best — ^that is the rule. The pres- 
ent chapter should be read and studied in connection 
with those devoted to the intellect. 

Blended Emotions. 
As we have said at the beginning of our consideration 
of the subject of the emotions, the majority of emotions 
are composed of several feelings, and tend to blend and 
combine emotional elements. For instance, the emotion 
of sexual love certainly has its origin in the instinctive 
feelings of the race, and its motive element is that of 
passion. But passion is far from being all there is in 
human sexual love. Above the plane of passion is 
found the social emotion of companionship, protection, 
and care; the desire for the welfare of the loved one; 
the mingling of the love of the parent with that of the 
mate. Human love manifests many of the altruistic 
emotions during its course. The welfare of the loved 
one becomes the chief concern of life, often stronger 
even than self-preservation. The joy of the loved one 
becomes the greatest joy, far surpassing the more selfish 
forms of happiness. Then come the aesthetic feelings, 
which find satisfaction in the two ^liking the same 
things," S3mipathy and community of feeling being the 


connecting link. The several ideals of the two com- 
bining, there is produced an idealistic union, which is 
often called "spiritual harmony." Finally, there is 
found the blending of the intellectual emotions, in 
which harmony there exists one of the highest forms of 
pleasure satisfaction between two persons of opposite 
sexes. It is said that the more things that a man and 
woman ^like" in common, the closer will be their '^ik- 
ing*^ for each other. "I love you because you love the 
things I love," is no rare thought and expression. 

So it is seen that though bom in elemental instinct 
and passion, human sexual love is something far differ- 
ent in its flowering. And yet without its root it would 
not be, and cannot be. This is an excellent example 
of the complex nature of the most common emotions. 
It may be used as a typical illustration. What is true 
of it is also true, in a way and in a degree, of every 
other form of emotion. Therefore in studying a par- 
ticular emotion, be not too quick to cry, "It is this; 
it is that!" but rather seek to say, "It is composed of 
this and that, of this and that!" Few, if any, emo- 
tions are simple ; the majority are very complex. Hence 
the diflficulty of satisfactory classification, and the dan- 
ger of dogmatic definition. 


The Role of the Emotions. 

THE average person greatly underestimates the 
part played by the emotional nature in the 
mental activities of the individual. He is in- 
clined to the opinion that, with the exception of the 
occasional manifestation of some strong emotional feel- 
ing, the majority of persons go through life using only 
the reasoning and reflective faculties in deciding the 
problems of life and guiding the mental course of 
action. There can be no greater mistake concerning 
the mental activities. So far from being subordinate to 
the intellect, the emotional nature in the majority of 
cases dominates the reasoning faculties. There are but 
very few persons who are able to detach themselves, even 
in a small degree, from the feelings, and to decide 
questions cold-bloodedly by pure reason or intellectual 
effort. Moreover, there are but few persons whose wills 
are guided by pure reason; the feelings supply the 
motive for the majority of acts of will. The intellect, 
even when used, is generally employed to better carry 
out the dictates of feeling and desire. Much of our 
reasoning is performed in order to justify our feelings, 


or to find proofs for the position dictated by our de- 
sires^ feelings, sympathies, prejudices, or sentiments. 
It has been said that ^^men seek not reasons but excuses 
for their actions/* 

Moreover, in the elementary processes of the intellect 
the emotions play an important part. We have seen 
that attention largely follows interest, and interest re- 
sults from feeling. Therefore our attention, and that 
which arises from it, is dependent largely upon the 
feelings. Thus feeling asserts its power in guarding 
the very outer gate of knowledge, and determines largely 
what shall or shall not enter therein. It is one of the 
constantly-appearing paradoxes of psychology, that 
while feelings have originally arisen from attention, 
it is equally true that attention depends largely upon 
the interest resulting from the feelings. This is read- 
ily admitted in the case of involuntary attention, which 
always goes out toward objects of interest and feeling, 
but is likewise true of even voluntary attention, which 
we direct to something of greater or more nearly ulti- 
mate interest than the things of lesser or more imme- 
diate interest. 

Sully says: "By an act of will I may resolve to 
turn my attention to something — say a passage in a 
book. But if, after the preliminary process of adjust- 
ment of the mental eye the object opens up no inter- 


esting phase, all the willing in the world will not pro- 
duce a calm, settled state of concentration. The will 
introduces mind and object; it cannot force an attach- 
ment between them. No compulsion of attention ever 
succeeded in making a young child cordially embrace 
and appropriate, by an act of concentration, an unsuit- 
able and therefore uninteresting object. We thus see 
that even voluntary interest is not removed from the 
sway of interest. What the will does is to determine 
the hind of interest that shall prevail at the moment." 
Again, we may see that memory is largely dependent 
upon interest in recording and recalling its impres- 
sions. We remember and recall most easily that which 
most greatly interests us. In proportion to the lack of 
interest in a thing do we find difficulty in remembering 
or recalling it. This is equally true of the imagination, 
for it refuses to dwell upon that which is not interest- 
ing. Even in the reasoning processes we find the will 
balking at uninteresting subjects, but galloping along, 
pushing before it the rolling chair of interesting intel- 
lectual application. 

Our judgments are affected by our feelings. It is 
much easier to approve of the actions of some person 
we like, or whose views accord with our own, than of an 
individual whose personality and views are distasteful 
to us. It is very difficult to prevent prejudice, for or 


against^ from influencing our judgments. It is also true 
that we "find that for which we look^* in things and 
persons, and that which we expect and look for is often 
dependent upon our feelings. If we dislike a person 
or thing we are usually able to perceive no end of 
undesirable things in him or it; while if we are favor- 
ably inclined we easily find many admirable qualities 
in the same person or thing. A little change in our 
feeling often results in the formation of an entirely 
new set of judgments regarding a person or thing. 

Halleck well says : "On the one hand the emotions 
are favorable to intellectual action, since they supply 
the interest one feels in study. One may feel intensely 
concerning a certain subject and be all the better stu- 
dent. Hence the emotions are not, as was formerly 
thought, entirely hostile to intellectual action. Emo- 
tion often quickens the perception, burns things indel- 
ibly into the memory, and doubles the rapidity of 
thought. On the other hand strong feelings often viti- 
ate every operation of the intellect. They cause us to 
see only what we wish to, to remember only what inter- 
ests our narrow feeling at the time, and to reason from 
selfish data only. ♦ ♦ ♦ Emotion puts the magnifying 
end of the telescope to our intellectual eyes where our 
own interests are concerned, the minimizing end when 
we are looking at the interest of others. ♦ ♦ * Thought 


is deflected when it passes through an emotional me- 
dium, just as a sunbeam is when it strikes water/' 

As for the will^ the best authorities hold that it is 
ahnost if not entirely dependent npon desire for its 
motive force. As desire is an outgrowth and develop- 
ment of feeling and emotion^ it is seen that even the 
will depends upon feeling for its inciting motives and 
its direction. We shall consider this point at greater de- 
tail in the chapters devoted to the activities of the will. 

We would remind you again, at this point, of the 
great triangle of the mind, the emotional, ideative, and 
volitional activities — ^feeling, thinking, and willing — 
and their constant reaction upon each other and absoluto 
interdependence. We find that our feelings arise from 
previous willing and ideation, and are aroused by ideas 
and repressed by will; again we see that our ideas are 
largely dependent upon the interest supplied by our 
feelings, and that our judgments are influenced by the 
emotive side of our mental life, the will also having its 
part to play in the matter. We also see that the will 
is called into activity by the feelings, and often guided 
or restrained by our thoughts, the will, indeed, being 
considered as moved entirely by our feelings and ideas. 
Thus is the trinity of mental forces seen ever in mutual 
relation — constant action and reaction ever existing be- 
tween them. 


The Emotions and Happiness. 

^^"T- TAPPINESS^' has been defined by an author- 

I I ity as *Hhe pleasurable emotion arising 
■^ -^ from the gratification of all desires ; the 
enjoyment of pleasure without pain." Another has 
said that 'happiness is the state in which all desires are 
satisfied/' But these definitions have been attacked. 
It is held by many that a state of the absolute satisf ac- 
tion of desire would not be happiness, for happiness 
consists largely in pleasurable anticipation and imagin- 
ings which disappear upon the realization of the desire. 
It is held that absolute satisfaction would be a nega- 
tive state. Paley expressed a better idea when he said 
that "any condition may be denominated Tiapp/ in 
which the amount or aggregate of pleasure exceeds that 
of pain, and the degree of happiness depends upon the 
quantity of this excess." 

Some have held that an existing contrast between 
pain and pleasure (the balance being in favor of the 
latter) is necessary to establish happiness. Be this as 
it may, it is admitted by all that one's happiness or 
unhappiness depends entirely upon one's emotional na- 


ture and the degree of the satisfaction thereof. And it 
is generally admitted that to be happy is the great aim 
and object of the life of the majority of persons, — if, 
indeed, not of every person, — the happiness, of course, 
depending upon the quality and degree of the emotions 
forming the person's emotional nature. Thus it is seen 
that we are dependent upon the emotional side of our 
mental life in this as in nearly everything else making 
life worth while. 

Theologians have often sought to point out that hap- 
piness is not the goal of life and living, but human 
nature has always insisted that happiness is the great- 
est end, and philosophy has generally supported it. But 
wisdom shows that happiness is not always dependent 
upon the pleasure of the moment, for the sacrifice of 
inunediate pleasure frequently results in a much greater 
happiness in the future. In the same way an imme- 
diate disagreeable task often gains for us a greater 
satisfaction in the future. Likewise, it is frequently 
greater happiness to sacrifice a personal pleasure for the 
happiness of others than it would be to enjoy the 
pleasure of the moment at the expense of the pain of 
the other. There is often a far greater pleasure result- 
ing from an altruistic action of self-sacrifice than in 
the performance of the selfish, egoistic act. But, as 
the subtle reasoner may insist, the result is the same 


— the ultimate happiness and satisfaction of the self. 
This conclusion does not rob the altruistic ac' of its 
virtue, however, for the person who finds his greatest 
pleasure in giving pleasure to others is to be con- 
gratulated — as is the community which shelters him. 

There is no virtue in pain, suffering, sacrifice, or 
unhappiness for its own sake. This illusion of asceti- 
cism is vanishing from the human mind. Sacrifice on 
the part of the individual is valuable and valid only 
when it results in higher present or future happiness for 
the individual or some one else. There is no virtue in 
pain, physical or mental, except as a step to a greater 
good for ourselves or others. Pain at the best is merely 
nature^s alarm and warning of ''not this way/' It is 
also held that pain serves to bring out pleasure by 
contrast, and is therefore valuable in this way. Be this 
as it may, no normal individual deliberately seeks ulti- 
mate pain in preference to ultimate happiness ; the 
greatest ultimate happiness to one's self and to those 
he loves is the normal and natural goal of the normal 
person. But the concept of "those he loves,*' in many 
cases, includes the race as well as the immediate family. 

Wisdom shows the individual that the greatest happi- 
ness comes to him who controls and restrains many of 
his feelings. Dissipation results in pain and xmhappi- 
ness ultimately. The doctrine of thoughtless indulgence 


is unphilosophical and is contradicted by the experience 
of the race. Moreover, wisdom shows that the highest 
happiness comes not from the indulgence of the phys- 
ical feelings alone, or to excess, but rather from the 
cultivation, development, and manifestation of the 
higher feelings — the social, SBsthetic, and intellectual 
emotions. The higher pleasures of life, literature, art, 
music, science, invention, constructive imagination, etc., 
yield a satisfaction and happiness keener and more 
enduring than can possibly the lower forms of feeling. 
But the human being must not despise any part of his 
emotional being. Everything has its uses, which are 
good; and its abuses, which are bad. Every part of 
one's being, mental and physical, is well to use; but no 
part is well used if it uses the individual instead of 
being itself used. 

A recent writer has held that the end and aim of life 
should not be the pursuit of happiness, but rather the 
building of character. The obvious answer is that the 
two are identical in spirit, for to the man who appre- 
ciates the value of character, its attainment is the great- 
est happiness ; the wise teach that the greatest happiness 
comes to him who is possessed of a well-roimded, devel- 
oped character. Another writer has said that ''the aim 
of life should be self-improvement, with a due regard 
to the interest of others/' This is but saying that the 


greatest happiness to the wise man lies in this course. 
Any one who is wise enough, or great enough, to make 
these ends the aim and goal of life will find the greatest 
happiness therefrom. Arnold Bennett advances as a 
good working philosophy of life: ^'cheerfulness, kindli- 
ness, and rectitude." Can any one doubt that this 
course would bring great ultimate happiness? 

Happiness consists in that which ^'contents the 
spirit," and the latter depends entirely upon the char- 
acter of the feelings and emotions entertained by one, 
as weighed in the balance of reason, and as passed upon 
by judgment and the sense of right action. The great- 
est degree of happiness, or at least the greatest ratio 
of pleasure over pain, is obtained by a careful and intel- 
ligent cultivation of the feeling side of one's being in 
connection with the cultivation of the intellect and the 
mastery of the will. To be able to bring the capacity 
for enjoyment to its highest ; to be able to intelligently 
choose that which will bring the greatest ultimate hap- 
piness in accordance with right action; and, finally, to 
be able to use the will in the direction of holding fast 
to that which is good and rejecting that which is bad — 
this is the power of creating happiness. The feelings, 
the intellect, and the will — ^here, as ever — combine to 
manifest the result. 

Finally, it must be remembered that all human hap- 


piness consists in part of the ability to bear pain — to 
suffer. There must be the dash of Stoicism in the 
wise Epicurean. One must learn to pluck from pain, 
suffering, and unhappiness the secret drop of honey 
which lies at its heart, and which consists in the 
knowledge of the meaning and use of pain and the 
means whereby it may be transmuted into knowledge 
and experience, from which later happiness may be 
distilled. To profit by pain, to transmute suffering 
into joy, to transform present unhappiness into a future 
greater happiness — ^this is the privilege of the philos- 

The mental states and activities known as "desire" 
are a direct development of the feeling and emotional 
phase of the mind and form the motive power of the 
will. Desire, in fact, may be said to be composed of 
feeling on one side and will on the other. But the 
influence of the intellect or reasoning faculties has 
a most important part to play in the evolution of feel- 
ing into desire, and in the consequent action of the will 
by the presentation and weighing of conflicting desires. 
Therefore, the logical place for the consideration of the 
activities of the intellect is at this point — ^between emo- 
tion and will. Accordingly, we shall leave the subject 
of feeling and emotion for the present, to be taken up 


again in connection with the subject of desire, after we 
have considered the intellectual processes of the mind. 
But^ as has been indicated^ we shall see the presence and 
influence of the feelings and emotions even in the 
activities of the intellect. 


The Intellect. 

THE class of mental states or processes grouped 
together under the name of "intellectual proc- 
esses/' forms the second great division of the 
mental states, the two others being "feeling** and "will/* 

"Intellect'* has been defined as follows: ''The part 
or faculty of the human mind by which it knows, as 
distinguished from the power to feel and to will; the 
thinking faculty; the understanding;" also as "that 
faculty of the human mind by which it receives or 
comprehends the ideas communicated to it by the senses 
or the perception, or other means, as distinguished from 
the power to feel and to will ; the power or faculty to 
perceive objects in their relations; the power to judge 
and comprehend ; also the capacity for higher forms of 
knowledge, as distinguished from the power to perceive 
and imagine.'* 

In the preceding chapters we have seen that the 
individual is able to experience sensations in conscious- 
ness, and that he is able to perceive them mentally, the 
latter being the first step in intellectual activity. We 


have also seen that he is able to reproduce the percep- 
tion by means of memory and imagination^ and that 
by means of the latter he is able to re-combine and 
rearrange the objects of perception. We have also seen 
that he has what are known as "feelings/^ which depend 
upon his previous experience and that of his progen- 
itors. So far the mind has been considered merely as 
a receiving and reproducing instrument, with the added 
attachment of the re-combining power of the imagina- 
tion. Up to this point the mind may be compared to 
the phonographic cylinder, with an attachment capable 
of re-combining its recorded impressions. The impres- 
sions are received and perceived, are stored away, are 
reproduced, and by the use of the imagination are 

Up to this point the mind is seen to be more or less 
of an automatic, instinctive faculty. It may be traced 
from the purely reflex activity of the lowest forms of 
life up through the lower animals, step by step, until 
a very high degree of mental power is perceived in ani- 
mals like the horse, dog, or elephant. But there is 
something lacking. There is missing that peculiar 
power of thinking in symbols and abstract conceptions 
which distinguishes the human race and which is closely 
bound up with the faculty of language or expressing 
thoughts in words. The comparatively high mental 


process of the lower animals is dwarfed by the human 
faculty of "thinking/' And thinking is the manifesta- 
tion of the intellect. 

What is it to think? Strange to say, very few per- 
sons can answer this question correctly at first. They 
find themselves inclined to answer the inquiry in the 
words of the child: 'TVhy, to think is to think!'* Let 
us see if we can make it plain. The dictionary defini- 
tion is a little too technical to be of much use to the 
beginner, but here it is : "To employ any of the intel- 
lectual powers except that of simple perception through 
the senses." But what are the "intellectual powers" 
so employed, and how are they employed? Let us see. 

Stating the matter plainly in common terms, we may 
say that "thinking" is the mental process of (1) com- 
paring our perceptions of things with each other, noting 
the points of likeness and of difference; (2) classifying 
them according to the ascertained likeness or difference, 
and thus tying them up in mental bimdles with each 
set of "things of a kind" in its own bundle; (3) form- 
ing the abstract, symbolic mental idea (concept) of 
each class of things, so grouped, which we may after- 
ward use as we use figures in mathematical calculations ; 
(4) using these concepts in order to form inferences, 
that is, to reason from the known to the unknown, and 
to form judgments regarding things; (5) comparing 


these judgments and deducing higher judgments from 
them; and so on. 

Without thinking, man would he dependent upon 
each particular experience for his knowledge, except so 
far as memory and imagination could instinctively aid 
him. By thought processes he is enabled to infer that 
if certain things be true of one of a certain kind of 
things, the same thing may be expected from others of 
the same class. As he is able to note points of likeness 
or difference, he is able to form clearer and truer infer- 
ences. In addition, he is able to apply his constructive 
imagination to the rearrangement and recombination 
of things whose nature he has discovered, and thus 
progress along the line of material achievement as well 
as of knowledge. It must be remembered, however, 
that the intellect depends entirely for its material upon 
the perception, which in turn receives its raw material 
from the senses. The intellect merely groups together 
the material of perception, makes inferences, draws 
conclusions from, and forms conclusions regarding, 
them, and in the case of constructive imagination 
recombines them in effective forms and arrangement. 
The intellect is the last in order in the course of mental 
evolution. It appears last in order in the mind of the 
child, but it often persists in old age after the feelings 
have grown dim and the memory weak. 



What is known as the "concepf * is the first fruit of 
the elemental processes of thought. The various im- 
ages of outside objects are sensed, then perceived, and 
then grouped according to their likenesses and differ- 
ences, and the result is the production of concepts. It 
is diflBcult to define a concept so as to convey any mean- 
ing to the beginner. For instance, the dictionaries give 
the definition as "an abstract, general conception, idea, 
or notion formed in the mind.*' Not very clear this, is 
it ? Perhaps we can understand it better if we say that 
the terms dog, cat, man, horse, house, etc., each ex- 
presses a concept. Every term expresses a concept; 
every general name of a thing or quality is a term 
applied to the concept. We shall see this a little clearer 
as we proceed. 

We form a concept in this way: (1) We perceive a 
number of things; (2) then we notice certain qualities 
possessed by things — certain properties, attributes, or 
characteristics which make the thing what it is; (3) 
then we compare these qualities of the thing with the 
qualities of other things and see that there is a likeness 
in some cases, in various degrees, and a difference in 
other cases, in various degrees; (4) then we generalize 
or classify the perceived things according to their ascer- 
tained likenesses and differences; (5) then we form a 


general idea or concept embodying each class of thing; 
and, finally, we give to the concept a term, or name, 
which is its symbol. 

The concept is a general idea of a class of things; 
the term is the expression of that general idea. The 
concept is the idea of a class of things ; the term is the 
label aflSxed to the thing. To illustrate this last dis- 
tinction, let us take the concept and term of 'Tbird,'' 
for instance. By perception, comparison, and classifi- 
cation of the qualities of living things we have arrived 
at the conclusion that there exists a great general class 
the qualities of which may be stated thus: 'Warm- 
blooded, feathered, winged, oviparous, vertebrate/* To 
this general class of quality-possessing animals we apply 
the English term "bird." The name is merely a sym- 
bol. In German the term is vogel; in Latin, avis; but 
in each and every case the general idea or concept above 
stated, i. e., "warm-blooded, feathered, winged, ovipa- 
rous, vertebrate," is meant. If anything is f oimd having 
all of those particular qualities, then we know it must 
be what we call a *T)ird." And everything that we call 
a *T)ird" must have those qualities. The term **bird'' 
is the symbol for that particular combination of quali- 
ties existing in a thing. 

There is a difference between a mental image of the 
imagination and a concept. The mental image must 


always be of a particular thing, while the concept is 
always an idea of a general class of things which can- 
not be clearly pictured in the mind. For instance, the 
imagination may form the mental picture of any known 
bird, or even of an imaginary bird, but that bird always 
will be a distinct, particular bird. Try to form a men- 
tal picture of the general class of birds — ^how will you 
do it? Do you realize the difficulty? First, such an^ 
image would have to include the characteristics of the 
large birds, such as the eagle, ostrich, and condor; and 
of the small birds, such as the wren and humming bird. 
It must be a composite of the shape of all birds, from 
the ostrich, swan, eagle, crane, down to the sparrow, 
swallow, and humming bird. It must picture the par- 
ticular qualities of birds of prey, water birds, and 
domestic fowls, as well as the grain eaters. It must 
exhibit all the colors found in bird life, from the bright- 
est reds and greens down to the sober grays and browns. 
A little thought will show that a clear mental image of 
such a concept is impossible. What the most of us do, 
when we think of *T)ird,^* is to picture a vague, flying 
shape of dull color; but when we stop to think that 
the term must also include the waddling duck and the 
scratching barnyard chicken, we see that our mental 
image is faulty. The trouble is that the term *T)ird" 
really means *^all-bird," and we cannot picture an ^^all- 


bird^^ from the very nature of the case. Our terms, 
therefore^ are like mathematical figures, or algebraic 
symbols, which we use for ease, speed, and deamess of 

The trouble does not end here. Concepts not only 
include the general idea of things, but also the general 
idea of the qualities of things. Thus sweetness, hard- 
ness, courage, and energy are concepts, but we cannot 
form a mental image of them by themselves. We may 
picture a sweet thing, but not sweetness itself. So you 
see that a concept is a purely abstract mental idea — a 
symbol — ^akin to the figures 1, 2, 3, etc., and used in 
the same way. They stand for general classes of things. 
A "term" is the verbal and written expression of the 
general idea or concept. The student is requested to 
fix these distinctions in his mind, so as to render further 
understanding of them easy. 


THE process of conception has been well defined 
by Qordy as "that act of mind by which it 
forms an idea of a class; or that act of the 
mind that enables us to use general names intelligently/' 
He adds : "It is, of course, understood that I am using 
the word 'class' to denote an indefinite number of indi- 
viduals that resemble each other in certain particulars." 


The first step in conception, as we have seen, is that 
of perception. It is readily perceived that the char- 
acter of our intellectual processes depends materially 
upon the variety, clearness, and accuracy of our per- 
ceptions. Therefore, again, we would refer our stu- 
dents to the chapter in which we have stated the 
importance of clear perception. 


The future steps of conception depend materially 
upon the clearness of the memory, as we can classify 


objects only by remembering their qualities beyond the 
immediate moment of actual, original perception. 
Therefore, the memory should be strengthened for this 
as well as other objects. 


The second step in conception is that of the mental 
abstraction of qualities from the observed thing. That 
is, we must perceive and then mentally set aside the 
observed qualities of the thing. For instance, man first 
perceived the existence of certain qualities in things. 
He found that a certain number of things possessed 
some of these qualities in common, while others pos- 
sessed other qualities in the same way, and thus arose 
classification from comparison. But both comparison 
and classification are possible only by abstraction, or 
the perception of the quality as a ''thing"; thus, the 
abstraction of the idea of the quality of sweetness from 
the idea of sugar. Sweetness is a quality rather than 
a thing itself. It is something possessed by sugar which 
helps to make sugar what it is. 

Color, shape, size, mental qualities, habits of action — 
these are some of the qualities first observed in things 
and abstracted from them in thought. Bedness, sweet- 
ness, hardness, softness, largeness, smallness, fragrance, 
swiftness, slowness, fierceness, gentleness, warmness. 


coldness, etc. — ^these are abstracted qualities of things. 
Of course these qualities are really never divorced from 
things, but the mind divorces them in order to make 
thinking easier. An authority says : "Animals are in- 
capable of making abstractions, and that is the reason 
why they cannot develop formal thought. * * * Abstract 
thought is identical with rational thought, which is the 
characteristic feature of the thought of speaking beings. 
This is the reason why abstract thought is upon earth 
the exclusive property of man, and why brutes are in- 
capable of abstract thought. The process of naming 
is the mechanism of abstraction, for names establish the 
mental independence of the objects named.'' 

The processes of abstraction depend upon attention — 
concentrated attention. Attention directed to the quali- 
ties of a thing tends to abstract the qualities in thought 
from the thing itself. Mill says : "Abstraction is pri- 
marily the result of attention." Hamilton says : "At- 
tention and abstraction are only the same process viewed 
in different relations." Cultivation of the power of 
abstraction means principally cultivation of attention. 
Any mental activity which tends toward analysis or 
separation of a thing into its parts, qualities, or ele- 
ments will serve to cultivate and develop the power of 

The habit of converting qualities into concepts is 


acquired by transforming adjective terms into their 
corresponding noun terms. For instance^ a piece of 
colored candy possesses the qualities of being rounds 
hard, red, sweet, etc. Transforming these adjective 
qualities into noun terms we have the concepts of round- 
ness, hardness, redness, and sweetness, respectively. 


The third step in conception is that of comparison, 
in which the qualities of several things are compared 
or examined for likenesses and differences. We find 
many qualities in which the several things differ, and a 
few in which there is a likeness. Classes are formed 
from resemblances or likenesses, while individuals are 
separated from apparent classes by detection of differ- 
ences. Finally, it is foimd that separate things, while 
having many points of difference which indicate their 
individuality, nevertheless have a few points of likeness 
which indicate that they belong to the same general 
family or class. The detection of likenesses and differ- 
ences in the qualities of various things is an important 
mental process. Many of the higher thought processes 
depend largely upon the ability to compare things prop- 
erly. The development of attention and perception tends 
to develop the power of comparison. 


Classification or Qbneealization. 

The fourth step in conception is that of classification 
or generalization^ whereby we place individual things in 
a mental bundle or class^ and then this bundle in com- 
pany with other bundles into a higher class, and so on. 
Thus we group all the individual small birds having 
certain characteristics into a species, then several related 
species into a larger family, and this into a still larger, 
imtil finally we group all the bird families into the great 
family which we call *1)irds" and of which the simple 
term *T>ird^^ expresses the general concept. 

Jevons says : *TVe classify things together whenever 
we observe that they are like each other in any respect, 
and therefore think of them together. In classifying a 
collection of objects, we do not merely put together into 
groups those which resemble each other, but we also 
divide each class into smaller ones in which the resem- 
blance is more complete. Thus the class of white sub- 
stances may be divided into those which are solid, and 
those which are fiuid, so that we get the two minor 
classes of solid-white and fiuid-white substances. It is 
desirable to have names by which to show that one class 
is contained in another, and, accordingly, we call the 
class which is divided into two or more smaller ones the 
genus, and the smaller ones into which it is divided, 
the species/^ 


Every species is a small family of the individuals 
composing it^ and at the same time is an individual 
species of the genus just above it ; the genus, in tum^ is 
a family of several species^ and at the same time an 
individual genus in the greater family or genus above it. 

The student may familiarize himself with the idea of 
generalization by considering himself as an individual^ 
John Smith. John represents that imit of generaliza- 
tion. The next step is to combine John with the other 
Smiths of his immediate family. Then this family 
may be grouped with his near blood relations, and so on, 
until finally all the related Smiths, near and remote, are 
grouped together in a great Smith family. 

Or, in the same way, the family group may be en- 
larged until it takes in all the white people in a county, 
then all the white people in the state, then all in the 
United States; then all the white races, then all the 
white and other light-skinned races, then all mankind. 
Then, if one is inclined, the process may be continued 
until it embraces every living creature from moneron 
to man. Beversing the process, living creatures may be 
divided and subdivided until all mankind is seen to 
stand as a class. Then the race of man may be divided 
into sub-races according to color; then the white race 
may be subdivided into Americans and non- Americans. 
Then the Americans may be divided into inhabitants of 


the several states^ or into Indianans and non-Indianans ; 
then into the inhabitants of the several counties of 
Indiana^ and thus the Posey Countians are reached. 
Then the Posey County people are divided into Smiths 
and non-Smiths; then the Smith family into its con- 
stituent family groups, and then into the smaller fami- 
lies^ and so on, until the classification reaches one par- 
ticular John Smith, who at last is found to be an 
individual — ^in a class by himself. This is the story of 
the ascending and descending processes of generaliza- 


ClcLSses of Concepts. 

IN the preceding chapter we have seen the process 
of conception — of the forming of concepts. The 
idea of a general class of things or qualities is a 
concept. Each concept contains the qualities which are 
common to all the individuals composing the class^ but 
not those qualities which pertain only to the minor 
classes or the individuals. For instance, the concept of 
'T)ird" will necessarily include the common qualities of 
warm-bloodedness, f eatheredness, wingedness, oviparous- 
ness, and vertebratedness. But it will not include color, 
special shape, size, or special features or characteristics 
of the subfamilies or individuals composing the great 
class. The class comprises the individuals and sub- 
classes composing it; the concept includes the general 
and common qualities which all in the class possess. A 
percept is the mental image of a particular thing; a 
concept is the mental idea of the general qualities of a 
class of things. A percept arises from the perception of 
a sensation; a concept is a purely mental, abstract crea- 
tion, whose only existence is in the world of ideas and 


which has no corresponding individual object in the 
world of s^ise. 

There are two general classes of concepts^ namely: 
(1) concrete concepts^ in which the common qualities 
of a class of things are combined into one conceptual 
idea, such as *1)ird/^ of which we have spoken; (2) 
abstract concepts, in which is combined the idea of some 
qucUity common to a number of things, such as ^^sweet- 
ness'* or "redness/* Jevons's well-known rule for terms 
is an aid in remembering this classification: ^'A con- 
Crete term is the name of a thing; an abstract term is 
the name of a quality of a thing/* 

It is a peculiar fact and rule of concrete concepts 
that (1) the larger the class of things embraced in a 
concept, the smaller are its general qualities; and (2) 
the larger the number of general qualities included in 
a concept, the smaller the number of individuals em- 
braced by it. For instance, the term *T)ird" embraces 
a great number of individuals — ^all the birds that are 
in existence, in fact, but it has but few general quali- 
ties, as we have seen. On the contrary, the concept 
*'stork'* has a much larger number of general qualities, 
but embraces far fewer individuals. Finally, the indi- 
vidual is reached, and we find that it has more qualities 
than any class can have; but it is composed of the 
smallest possible number of individuals, one. The secret 


is this : !N'o two individuals can have as many qualities 
in common as each has individually^ unless they are 
precisely alike^ which is impossible in nature. 

Imperfect Concepts. 

It is said that outside of strictly scientific definitions 
very few persons agree in their concepts of the same 
thing. Each has his or her own concept of the partic- 
ular thing which he or she expresses by the same term. 
A number of persons asked to define a common term like 
^ove/' ^'religion/' ^^f aith/' '"heliet/' etc., wiU give such 
a variety of answers as to cause wonderment. As Qreen 
says: ^^My idea or image is mine alone — ^the reward 
of careless observation if imperfect; of attentive, care- 
ful, and varied observation if correct. Between mine 
and yours a great gulf is fixed. 'No man can pass from 
mine to yours, or from yours to mine. Neither in any 
proper sense of the term can mine be conveyed to you. 
Words do not convey thoughts; they are not vehicles 
of thoughts in any true sense of that term. A word is 
simply a common symbol which each associates with his 
own idea or image.'* 

The reason of the difference in the concepts of several 
persons is that very few of our concepts are nearly per- 
fect; the majority of them are quite imperfect and 
incomplete. Jevons gives us an idea of this in his 


remarks on classification: ^^Things may seem to be 
very much like each other which are not so. Whales, 
porpoises^ seals, and several other animals live in the 
sea exactly like a fish ; they have a similar shape and are 
usually classed among fish. People are said to go whale 
fishing. Yet these animals are not really fish at all, 
but are much more like dogs and horses and other 
quadrupeds than they are like fish. They cannot live 
entirely under water and breathe the air contained in 
the water like fish, but they have to come to the surface 
at intervals to take breath. Similarly, we must not 
class bats with birds because they fiy about, although 
they have what would be called wings ; these wings are 
Hot like those of birds, and, in truth, bats are much 
more like rats and mice than they are like birds. Bot- 
anists used at one time to classify plants according to 
iheir size, as trees, shrubs, or herbs, but we now know 
that a great tree is often more similar in character to a 
tiny herb than it is to other great trees. A daisy has 
little resemblance to a great Scotch thistle; yet the 
botanist regards them as very similar. The lofty grow- 
ing bamboo is a kind of grass, and the sugar cane also 
belongs to the same class with wheat and oats/' 

It is a matter of importance that clear concepts should 
be formed regarding at least the familiar things of life. 
The list of clear concepts should be added to from time 


to time by study, investigation, and examination. The 
dictionary should be consulted frequently, and a term 
studied until one has a clear meaning of the concept 
the term seeks to express. A good encyclopedia (not 
necessarily an expensive one, in these days of cheap 
editions) will also prove very useful in this respect. 
As Halleck says : ^^It must be borne in mind that most 
of our concepts are subject to change during our entire 
life; that at first they are made only in a tentative way; 
that experience may show us, at any time, that they 
have been erroneously formed, that we have abstracted 
too little or too much, made the class too wide or too 
narrow, or that here a quality must be added or there 
one taken away.'* 

It is a good practice to make a memorandum of any- 
thing of which you may hear, but of which you know 
nothing, and then later to make a brief but thorough 
investigation of that thing, by means of the dictionary 
and encyclopedia, and of whatever good works may be 
obtained on the subject, not leaving it until you feel 
that you have obtained at least a clear idea of what 
the thing really means. A half hour eaqh evening de- 
voted to exercise of this kind will result in a wonderful 
increase of general information. We have heard of a 
man who made a practice of reading a short article 
in the encyclopedia every evening, giving preference to 


subjects generally classed as familiar. In a year he 
made a noticeable advance in general knowledge as well 
as habits of thought. In five years he was looked upon 
by his associates as a man of a remarkably large field 
of general information and of more than ordinary intel- 
ligence, which verdict was a just one. As a rule we 
waste far more time on worthless fiction than we are 
willing to devote to a little self -improvement of this 
kind. We shrink at the idea of a general course of 
instructive reading, little realizing that we can take our 
study in small installments and at a very little cost in 
time or labor. 

Our concepts form the material which our intellect 
uses in its reasoning processes. No matter how good 
a reasoner one may be, imless he has a good supply of 
general information about the things of which he is 
reasoning, he will not make much real headway. We 
must begin at the bottom and build a firm foundation 
upon which the intellectual structure may be erected. 
This foundation is composed of facts. These facts are 
represented by our clear and correct concepts. 



WE have seen the several steps of the mental 
process whereby simple sensations are trans- 
formed into percepts and then into con- 
cepts or general ideas. The formation of the concept 
is considered as the first great step in thinking. The 
second great step in thinking is that of the formation 
of the "judgment." The definition of "judgment," as 
the term is used in logic, is "the comparing together in 
the mind of two ideas of things, and determining 
whether they agree or disagree with each other, or that 
one of them does or does not belong to the other. Judg- 
ment is, therefore, (a) affirmative or (6) negative, as 
(a) ^Snow is white,^ or (6) *A11 white men are not 
Europeans.^ ^' 

What in logic is called a "proposition" is the ex- 
pression in words of a logical judgment. Hyslop 
defined the term "proposition" as follows: ''Any 
affirmation or denial of an agreement between two con- 
ceptions." For instance, we compare the concepts 
"sparrow^' and "bird" and find that there is an agree- 
ment, and that the former belongs to the latter; this 


mental process is a judgment. We then announce the 
judgment in the proposition: ^The sparrow is a bird/* 
In the same way we compare the concepts 'T)at^^ and 
^T)ird," find that there is a disagreement, and form the 
judgment that neither belongs to the other, which we 
express in the proposition: "The bat is not a bird." 
Or we may form the judgment that "sweetness" is a 
quality of "sugar," which we express in the proposi- 
tion: "Sugar is sweet." Likewise, we may form the 
judgment which results in the proposition: "Vinegar 
is not sweet." 

While the process of judgment is generally considered 
as constituting the second great step of thinking, com- 
ing after the formation of the concept, and consisting 
of the comparing of concepts, it must be remembered 
that the act of judging is far more elementary than 
this, for it is found still farther back in the history of 
thought processes. By that peculiar law of paradox 
which we find everywhere operative in mind processes, 
the same process of forming judgments which is used 
in comparing concepts also has been used in forming 
the same concepts in the stage of comparison. In fact, 
the result of all comparison, high or low, must be a 

Halleck says: "Judgment is necessary in forming 
concepts. When we decide that a quality is or is not 


common to a class^ we are really judging. This is an- 
other evidence of the complexity and unified action of 
the mind." Brooks says: "The power of judgment 
is of great value in its products. It is involved in or 
accompanies every act of the intellect, and thus lies at 
the foundation of all intellectual activity. It operates 
directly in every act of the understanding, and even 
aids the other faculties of the mind in completing their 
activities and products. ♦ ♦ ♦ Strictly speaking, every 
intelligent act of the mind is accompanied with a judg- 
ment. To know is to discriminate and, therefore, to 
judge. Every sensation or cognition involves a knowl- 
edge and so a judgment that it exists. The mind can- 
not think at all without judging; to think is to judge. 
Even in forming the notions which judgment com- 
pares, the mind judges. Every notion or concept im- 
plies a previous act of judgment to form it; in forming 
a concept we compare the common attributes before we 
unite them, and comparison is judgment. It is thus 
true that 'Every concept is a contracted judgment; 
every judgment an expanded concept.' " 

It is needless to say that as judgments lie at the base 
of our thinking, and also appear in every part of its 
higher structure, the importance of correct judgment 
in thought cannot be overestimated. But it is often 
very difficult to form correct judgment even regarding 


"the most familiar things around us. Halleck says : ^*Iii 
«w;tual life things present themselves to us with their 
qualities disguised or obscured by other conflicting 
^^ualities. Men had for ages seen burning substances 
and had formed a concept of them. A certain hard^ 
blacky stony substance had often been noticed^ and a 
concept had been formed of it. This concept was im- 
perfect; but it is very seldom that we meet with perfect, 
sharply-defined concepts in actual life. So it happened 
that for ages the concept of burning substance was 
never linked by judgment to the concept of stone coal. 
The combustible quality in the coal was overshadowed 
by its stony attributes. ^Of course stone will not burn/ 
people said. One cannot tell how long the development 
of mankind was retarded for that very reason. Eng- 
land would not to-day be manufacturing products for 
the rest of the world had not some one judged coal to 
be a combustible substance. ♦ ♦ ♦ Judgment is ever 
silently working and comparing things that to past 
ages seemed dissimilar; and it is constantly abstracting 
and leaving out of the field of view those qualities 
which have simply served to obscure the point at issue.'' 
Gordy says: "The credulity of children is prover- 
bial; but if we get our facts at first hand, if we study 
^the living, learning, playing child,' we shall see that he 
is quite as remarkable for incredulity as for credulity. 


The explanation is simple: He tends to believe the 
first suggestion that comes into his mind, no matter 
from what source; and since his belief is not the result 
of any rational process^ he cannot be made to disbelieve 
it in any rational way. Hence it is that he is very 
credulous about any matter about which he has no 
ideas; but let the idea once get possession of his mind, 
and he is quite as remarkable for incredulity as before 
for credulity. * * * If we study the larger child, — ^the 
man with a child's mind, an uneducated man, — ^we shall 
have the same truth forced upon us. If the beliefs of 
men were due to processes of reasoning, where they have 
not reasoned they would not believe. But do we find 
it so? Is it not true that the men who have the most 
positive opinions on the largest variety of subjects — so 
far as they have ever heard of them — are precisely those 
who have the least right to them? Socrates, we remem- 
ber, was counted the wisest man in Athens because he 
alone resisted his natural tendency to believe in the 
absence of evidence; he alone would not delude himself 
with the conceit of knowledge without the reality; and 
it would scarcely be too much to say that the intellectual 
strength of men is in direct proportion to the number 
of things they are absolutely certain of . * * * I do not, 
of course, mean to intimate that we should have no 
opinions about matters that we have not personally 


investigated. We take, and ought to take, the opinion 
of some men about law, and others about medicine, and 
others about particular sciences, and so on. But we 
should clearly realize the difference between holding an 
opinion on trust and holding it as the result of our own 

Brooks says: "It should be one of the leading ob- 
jects of the culture of young people to lead them to 
acquire the habit of forming judgments. They should 
not only be led to see things but to have opinions about 
things. They should be trained to see things in their 
relations and to put these relations into definite propo- 
sitions. Their ideas of objects should be worked up 
into thoughts concerning the objects. Those methods 
of teaching are best which tend to excite a thoughtful 
habit of mind that notices the similitudes and diversi- 
ties of objects and endeavors to read the thoughts which 
they embody and of which they are the symbols.'^ 

The study of logic, geometry, and the natural sci- 
ences is recommended for exercise of the faculty of 
judgment and the development thereof. The study and 
practice of even the lower branches of mathematics are 
also helpful in this direction. The game of checkers 
or chess is recommended by many authorities. Some 
have advocated the practice of solving enigmas, prob- 
lems, rebuses, etc., as giving exercise to this faculty of 


the mind. The cultivation of the ''Why?'' attitude of 
mind, and the answering of one's own mental questions, 
is also helpful, if not carried to excess. "Doubting 
Thomas" is not always a term of reproach in these days 
of scientific habits of thought, and ''the man from 
Missouri" has many warm admirers. 


Primary Laws of Thought. 

IN connection with this subject we herewith call the 
attention of the student to the well-known Pri- 
mary Laws of Thought which have been recog- 
nized as valid from the time of the ancient Greek 
logicians. These laws are self-evident, and are tincon- 
tradictable. They are axiomatic. Jevons says of them : 
^'Students are seldom able to see at first their full 
meaning and importance. All arguments may be ex- 
plained when these self-evident laws are granted; and 
it is not too much to say that the whole of logic will 
be plain to those who will constantly use these laws as 
their key.'^ Here are the Three Primary Laws of 

I. Law of Identity. "Whatever is, is." 
II. Law of Contradiction. '^Nothing can both be 

and not be." 
III. Law of Excluded Middle. "Everything must 
either be or Hot be; there is no middle 
I. The first of these laws, called "The Law of Iden- 
tity," informs us that a thing is always itself, no mattei 


under what guise or form it is perceived or may present 
itself. An animal is always a bird if it possesses the 
general characteristics of a ^T)ird," no matter whether it 
exhibits the minor characteristics of an eagle, a wren, 
a stork, or a humming bird. In the same way a whale 
is a mammal because it possesses the general character- 
istics of a mammal notwithstanding that it swims in the 
water like a fish. Also, sweetness is always sweetness, 
whether manifested in sugar, honey, flowers, or products 
of coal tar. If a thing is that thing, then it is, and it 
cannot be logically claimed that it is not 

II. The second of these laws, called "The Law of 
Contradiction/' informs us that the same quality or 
class cannot be both affirmed and denied of a thing at 
the same time and place. A sparrow cannot be said to 
be both "bird'' and "not bird" at the same time. If either 
can sugar be said to be "sweet" and "not sweef at the 
same time. A piece of iron may be ^Tiot" at one end 
and "not hot" at another, but it cannot be both 'Tiof ' 
and "not hot" at the same place at the same time. 

III. The third of these laws, called ''The Law of 
Excluded Middle/' informs us that a given quality or 
class must be affirmed or denied to everything at any 
given time and place. Everjrthing either must be of a 
certain class or not, must possess a certain quality or 
not, at a given time or place. There is no other alter- 


native or middle course. It is axiomatic that any state- 
ment must either he or not he true of a certain other 
thing at any certain time and place ; there is no escape 
from this. Anything either must be ^T)lack^^ or *'not 
black/* a bird or not a bird, alive or not alive, at any 
certain time or place. There is nothing else that it can 
be; it cannot both be and not be at the same time and 
place, as we have seen; therefore, it must either be or 
not be that which is asserted of it. The judgment must 
decide which alternative; but it has only two possible 

But the student must not confuse opposite qualities 
or things with *'not-ness.'^ A thing may be ^T)lack" or 
^'not black,^^ but it need not be white to be "not black," 
for blue is likewise "not black*^ just as it is "not white." 
The neglect of this fact frequently causes error. We 
must always aflSrm either the existence or non-existence 
of a quality in a thing; but this is far different from 
affirming or denying the existence of the opposite qual- 
ity. Thus a thing may be "not hard" and yet it does 
not follow that it is "soft" ; it may be neither hard nor 

Fallacious Application. 

There exists what are known as "fallacies" of appli- 
cation of these primary laws. A fallacy is an xmsound 
argument or conclusion. For instance, because a par- 


ticular man is found to be a liar, it is fallacious to 
assume that *^all men are liars/^ for lying is a particular 
quality of the individual man, and not a general quality 
of the family of men. In the same way because a stork 
has long legs and a long bill, it does not follow that all 
birds must have these characteristics simply because the 
stork is a bird. It is fallacious to extend an individual 
quality to a class. But it is sound judgment to assume 
that a class quality must be possessed by all individuals 
in that class. It is a far different proposition which 
asserts that ''some birds are black,'^ from that which 
asserts that ''all birds are black." The same rule, of 
course, is true regarding negative propositions. 

Another fallacy is that which assumes that because 
the aflBrmative or negative proposition has not been, or 
cannot be, proved, it follows that the opposite proposi- 
tion must be true. The true judgment is simply *^not 

Another fallacious judgment is that which is based 
on attributing absolute quality to that which is but 
relative or comparative. For instance, the terms *Tiot'^ 
and ^^cold" are relative and comparative, and simply 
denote one's relative opinion regarding a fixed and cer- 
tain degree of temperature. The certain thing is the 
degree of temperature, say 75 degrees Fahrenheit; of 
this we may logically claim that it is or is not true at 


a certain time or place. It either is 75 degrees Fahren- 
heit or it is not. But to one man this may seem warm 
and to another cold; both are right in their judgments, 
so far as their own relative feelings are concerned. 
But neither can claim absolutely that it is warm or 
cold. Therefore, it is a fallacy to ascribe absolute qual- 
ity to a relative one. The absolute fact comes under 
the Law of Excluded Middle, but a personal opinion is 
not an absolute fact. 

There are other fallacies which will be considered in 
other chapters of this book, under their appropriate 



REASONIlfG, the third great step in thinking, 
may be said to consist of ascertaining new 
truths from old ones, new judgments from old 
ones, unknown facts from known ones; in short, of 
proceeding logically from the known to the unknown, 
using the known as the foundation for the unknown 
which is sought to be known. Gordy gives us the fol- 
lowing excellent definition of the term: "Eeasoning 
is the act of going from the known to the unknown 
through other beliefs; of basing judgment upon judg- 
ments; reaching beliefs through beliefs." Reasoning, 
then, is seen to be a process of building a structure of 
judgments, one resting upon the other, the topmost 
point being the final judgment, but the whole consti- 
tuting an edifice of judgment. This may be seen more 
clearly when the various forms of reasoning are con- 

Immediate Reasoning. 

The simplest form of reasoning is that known as 
"immediate reasoning," by which is meant reasoning 
by direptly comparing two judgments without the inter- 


^^^«ntion of the third judgment, which is found in the 
^^=iaore formal classes of reasoning. This form of rea- 
soning depends largely upon the application of the Three 
^3Primary Laws of Thought, to which we have referred 
in a previous chapter. 

It will be seen that if (a) bl thing is always itself, 
^hen (6) all that is included in it must partake of its 
nature. Thus, the bird family has certain class charac- 
teristics, therefore by immediate reasoning we know that 
any member of that family must possess those class 
characteristics, whatever particular characteristics it 
may have in addition. And we likewise know that we 
cannot attribute the particular characteristics, as a 
matter of course, to the other members of the class. 
Thus, though all sparrows are birds, it is not true that 
all birds are sparrows. **A11 biscuits are bread; but all 
bread is not biscuit.'* 

In the same way we know that a thing cannot be 
bird and mammal at the same time, for the mammals 
form a not-bird family. And, likewise, we know that 
everything mtist be either bird or not bird, but that 
being not bird does not mean being a mammal, for 
there are many other not-bird things than mammals. 
In this form of reasoning distinction is always made 
between the universal or general class, which is ex- 
pressed by the word all, and the particular or individual. 


which is expressed by the word "some." Many persons 
fail to note this difiference in their reasoning, and fal- 
laciously reason, for instance, that because some swans 
are white, all swans must be so, which is a far different 
thing from reasoning that if all is so and so, then some 
must be so and so. Those who are interested in this 
subject are referred to some elementary text-book on 
logic, as the detailed consideration is too technical for 
consideration here. 

Ebasoning by Analogy. 

Beasoning by analogy is an elementary form of rea- 
soning, and is the particular kind of reasoning em- 
ployed by the majority of persons in ordinary thought. 
It is based upon the unconscious recognition by the 
human mind of the principle which is expressed by 
Jevons as : ''// two or more things resemble each other 
in many points, they will probably resemble each other 
in more points/^ The same authority says : "Eeasoning 
by analogy differs only in degree from that kind of 
reasoning called 'generalization/ When many things 
resemble each other in a few properties, we argue about 
them by generalization. When a few things resemble 
each other in many properties, it is a case of analogy.'* 

While this form of reason is frequently employed 
with more or less satisfactory results, it is always open 


to a large percentage of error. Thus, persons have been 
poisoned by toadstools by reason of false analogous rea- 
soning that because mushrooms are edible, then toad- 
stools, which resemble them, must also be fit for food; 
or, in the same way, because certain berries resemble 
other edible berries they must likewise be good food. 
As Brooks says: "To infer that because John Smith 
has a red nose and is also a drunkard, then Henry Jones, 
who also has a red nose, is also a drunkard, would be 
dangerous inference. Conclusions of this kind drawn 
from analogy are frequently dangerous." Halleck says : 
"Many false analogies are manufactured, and it is ex- 
cellent thought training to expose them. The majority 
of people think so little that they swallow these false 
analogies just as newly-fledged robins swallow small 
stones dropped into their mouths." 

Jevons, one of the best authorities on the subject, 
says : "There is no way in which we can really assure 
ourselves that we are arguing safely by analogy. The 
only rule that can be given is this: That the more 
closely two things resemble each other, the more likely 
it is that they are the same in other respects, especially 
in points closely connected with those observed. In 
order to be clear about our conclusions, we ought, in 
fact, never to rest satisfied with mere analogy, but 
ought to try to discover the general laws governing the 


case. * * * We find that reasoning by analogy is not 
to be depended upon, unless we make such an inquiry 
into the causes and laws of the things in question that 
we really employ inductive and deductive reasoning/* 

Higher Forms of Eeasoninq. 

The two higher forms of reasoning are known, re- 
spectively, as (1) inductive reasoning, or inference from 
particular facts to general laws; and (2) deductive rea- 
soning, or inference from general truths to particular 
truths. While the class distinction is made for the 
purpose of clear consideration, it must not be forgotten 
that the two forms of reasoning are generally f oimd in 
combination. Thus, in inductive reasoning many steps 
are taken by the aid of deductive reasoning; and, like- 
wise, before we can reason deductively from general 
truths to particular ones we must have discovered the 
general truths by inductive reasoning from particular 
facts. Thus there is a unity in all reasoning processes 
as there is in all mental operations. Inductive reasoning 
is a synthetical process; deductive reasoning, an an- 
alytical one. In the first we combine and build up, in 
the latter we dissect and separate. 


Inductive Reasoning. 

INDUCTIVE reasoning is based upon the axiom: 
''What is true of the many is true of the whole." 
This axiom is based upon man's belief in fhe 
uniformity of nature. Inductive reasoning is a mental 
ladder by which we climb from particular facts to gen- 
eral laws, but the ladder rests upon the belief that the 
imiverse is governed by law. 

The steps in inductive reasoning are as follows : — 
I. Observation, investigation, and examination of 
particular facts or things. If we wish to know the 
general characteristics of the bird family, we must first 
examine a sufficient number of birds of many kinds so 
as to discover the comparatively few general character- 
istics possessed by all of the bird family, as distinct 
from the particular characteristics possessed by only 
some of that family. The greater the number of indi- 
viduals examined, the narrower becomes our list of the 
general qualities common to all. In the same way we 
must examine many kinds of flowers before we come 
to the few general qualities common to all flowers, which 
we combine in the general concept of "flower." The 


same, of course, is true regarding the discovery of gen- 
eral laws from particular facts. We examine the facts 
and then work toward a general law which will explain 
them. For instance, the Law of Gravitation was dis- 
covered by the observation and investigation of the fact 
that all objects are attracted to the earth; further in- 
vestigation revealed the fact that all material objects 
are attracted to each other; then the general law was 
discovered, or, rather, the hypothesis was advanced, 
was found to explain the facts, and was verified by 
further experiments and observation. 

II. The second step in inductive reasoning is the 
making of an hypothesis. An hypothesis is a proposition 
or principle assumed as a possible explanation for a set 
or class of facts. It is regarded as a "working theory,^' 
which must be examined and tested in connection with 
the facts before it is finally accepted. For instance, 
after the observation that a number of magnets at- 
tracted steel, it was found reasonable to advance the 
hjrpothesis that "all magnets attract steel.'' In the 
same way was advanced the hypothesis that "all birds 
are warm-blooded, winged, feathered, oviparous verte- 
brates." Subsequent observation and experiment estab- 
lished the hypothesis regarding the magnet, and 
regarding the general qualities of the bird family. If 
a single magnet had been found which did not attract 


steel, then the hypothesis would have fallen. If a sin- 
gle bird had been discovered which was not warm- 
blooded, then that quality would have been stricken 
from the list of the necessary characteristics of all 

A theory is merely an hypothesis which has been veri- 
fied or established by continued and repeated observa- 
tion, investigation, and experiment. 

Hypotheses and theories arise very frequently from 
the subconscious assimilation of a number of particular 
facts and the consequent flashing of a ^^great guess," 
or ^^sacred suspicion of the truth," into the conscious 
field of attention. The scientific imagination plays an 
important part in this process. There is, of course, a 
world of difference between a 'T)lind guess" based upon 
insuflBcient data and a "scientific guess" resulting from 
the accumulation of a vast store of careful and accurate 
information. As Brooks says: "The forming of an 
hypothesis requires a suggestive mind, a lively fancy, a 
philosophic imagination that catches a glimpse of the 
idea through the form or sees the law standing behind 
the fact." But accepted theories, in the majority of 
cases, arise only by testing out and rejecting many 
promising hypotheses and finally settling upon the one 
which best answers all the requirements and best ex- 
plains the facts. As an authority says : "To try wrong 


guesses is with most persons the only way to hit upon 
right ones/* 

III. Testing the hypothesis by deductive reasoning 
is the third step in inductive reasoning. This test is 
made by applying the hypothetical principle to partic- 
ular facts or things ; that is, to follow out mentally the 
hypothetical principle to its logical conclusion. This 
may be done in this way: *lf so and so is correct, then 
it follows that thus and so is true/' etc. If the con- 
clusion agrees with reason, then the test is deemed 
satisfactory so far as it has gone. But if the result 
proves to be a logical absurdity or inconsistent with 
natural facts, then the hypothesis is discredited. 

IV. Practical verification of the hypothesis is the 
fourth step in inductive reasoning. This step consists 
of the actual comparison of observed facts with the 
"logical conclusions'' arising from applying deductive 
reasoning to the general principle assumed as a premise. 
The greater number of facts agreeing with the conclu- 
sions arising from the premise of the hypothesis, the 
greater is deemed the "probability" of the latter. The 
authorities generally assume an hypothesis to be verified 
when it accounts for all the facts which properly are 
related to it. Some extremists contend, however, that 
before an hypothesis may be considered as absolutely 
verified, it must not only account for all the associated 


facts but that also there must be na other possible 
hypothesis to account for the same facts. The ''facts** 
referred to in this connection may be either (1) ob- 
served phenomena^ or (2) the conclusions of deductive 
reasoning arising from the assumption of the hypoth- 
esis, or (3) the agreement between the observed facts 
and the logical conclusions. The last combination is 
generally regarded as the most logical. The verifica- 
tion of an hypothesis must be "an all-around one," and 
there must be an agreement between the observed facts 
and the logical conclusions in the case — the hypothesis 
must "fit'* the facts, and the facts must "fit** the 
hypothesis. The "facts*' are the glass slipper of the 
Cinderella legend — ^the several sisters of Cinderella 
were discarded hypotheses, the slipper and the sisters 
not "fitting.** When Cinderella*s foot was found to be 
the one foot upon which the glass slipper fitted, then 
the Cinderella hypothesis was considered to have been 
proved — ^the glass slipper was hers and the prince 
claimed his bride. 

Deductive Reeisoning. 

WE have seen in the preceding chapter that 
from particular facts we reason inductively 
to general principles or truths. We have 
also seen that one of the steps of inductive reasoning is 
the testing of the hypothesis by deductive reasoning. 
We shall now also see that the results of inductive 
reasoning are used as premises or bases for deductive 
reasoning. These two forms of reasoning are opposites 
and yet complementary to each other; they are in a 
sense independent and yet are interdependent. Brooks 
says: *^The two methods of reasoning are the reverse 
of each other. One goes from particulars to generals; 
the other from generals to particulars. One is a proc- 
ess of analysis ; the other is a process of synthesis. One 
rises from facts to laws; the other descends from laws 
to facts. Each is independent of the other, and each 
is a valid and essential method of inf erence.^' 

Halleck well expresses the spirit of deductive reason- 
ing as follows : "After induction has classified certain 
phenomena and thus given us a major premise, we may 
proceed deductively to apply the inference to any new 


specimen that can be shown to belong to that class. 
Induction hands over to deduction a ready-made prem- 
ise. Deduction takes that as a f act, making no inquiry 
regarding its truth. Only after general laws have been 
laid down, after objects have been classified, after major 
premises have been formed, can deduction be employed.^' 

Deductive reasoning proceeds from general principles 
to particular facts. It is a descending process, an- 
alytical in its nature. It rests upon the fimdamental 
axiomatic basis that ''whatever is true of the whole is 
true of its parts/' or ''whatever is true of the universal 
is true of the particulars/' 

The process of deductive reasoning may be stated 
briefly as follows: (1) A general principle of a class 
is stated as a major premise; (2) a particular thing is 
stated as belonging to that general class, this statement 
being the min,or premise; therefore (3) the general 
class principle is held to apply to the particular thing, 
this last statement being the conclusion. {A "premise" 
is *'a proposition assumed to he true/') 

The following gives us an Illustration of the above 
process: — 

I. {Major premise) — ^A bird is a warm-blooded, 

feathered, winged, oviparous vertebrate. 
II. {Minor premise) — The sparrow is a bird; 


III. (Concltmon) — The sparrow is a warm-blooded, 

feathered, winged, oviparous vertebrate. 
Or, again: — 
I. (Major premise) — ^Rattlesnakes frequently bite 

when enraged, and their bite is poisonous. 
II. (Minor premise) — This snake before me is a 

rattlesnake; therefore 
III. (Conclusion) — This snake before me may bite 
when enraged, and its bite will be poisonous. 
The average person may be inclined to object that 
he is not conscious of going through this complicated 
process when he reasons about sparrows or rattlesnakes. 
But he does, nevertheless. He is not conscious of the 
steps, because mental habit has accustomed him to the 
process, arid it is performed more or less automatically. 
But these three steps manifest in all processes of de- 
ductive reasoning, even the simplest. The average per- 
son is like the character in the French play who was 
surprised to learn that he had ^^been talking prose for 
forty years without knowing it.'' Jevons says that the 
majority of persons are equally surprised when they 
find out that they have been using logical forms, more 
or less correctly, without having realized it. He says: 
"A large number even of educated persons have no clear 
idea of what logic is. Yet, in a certain way, every one 
must have been a logician since he began to speak.'' 


There are many technical rules and principles of 
logic which we cannot attempt to consider here. There 
are, however, a few elementary principles of correct 
reasoning which should have a place here. What is 
known as a ^^syllogism" is the expression in words of 
the various parts of the complete process of reasoning 
or argument. Whately defines it as follows: "A syl- 
logism is an argument expressed in strict logical form 
so that its conclusiveness is manifest from the struc- 
ture of the expression alone, without any regard to the 
meaning of the term/' In short, if the two premises 
are accepted as correct, it follows that there can be only 
one true logical conclusion resulting therefrom. In 
abstract or theoretical reasoning the word 'Hf is as- 
sumed to precede each of the two premises, the "there- 
fore^^ before the conclusion resulting from the "if,'^ of 
course. The following are the general rules governing 
the syllogism: — 

I. Every syllogism must consist of three, and no 
more than three, propositions, namely (1) the major 
premise, (2) the minor premise, and (3) the conclu- 

II. The conclusion must naturally follow from the 
premises, otherwise the syllogism is invalid and con- 
stitutes a fallacy or sophism. 

III. One premise, at least, must be affinnativo. 


IV. If one premise is negative, the conclusion must 
be negative. 

V. One premise, at least, must be universal or gen- 

VI. If one premise is particular, the conclusion also 
must be particular. 

The last two rules (V. and VI.) contain the essential 
principles of all the rules regarding syllogisms, and any 
syllogism which breaks them will be found also to break 
other rules, some of which are not stated here for the 
reason that they are too technical. These two rules may 
be tested by constructing syllogisms in violation of their 
principles. The reason for them is as follows: (Rule 
V.) Because "from two particular premises no conclu- 
sion can be drawn,'* as, for instance : (1) Some men are 
mortal; (2) John is a man. We cannot reason from 
this either that John is or is not mortal. The major 
premise should read ^'all men.'* (Rule VI.) Because 
"a universal conclusion can be drawn only from two 
universal premises," an example being needless here, as 
the conclusion is so obvious. 

Cultivation op Reasoning Faculties. 

There is no royal road to the cultivation of the 
reasoning faculties. There is but the old familiar rule: 
Practice, exercise, use. Nevertheless there are certain 


studies which tend to develop the faculties in question. 
The study of arithmetic, especially mental arithmetic, 
tends to develop correct habits of reasoning from one 
txuth to another — ^from cause to eflfect. Better still is 
trie study of geometry; and best of all, of course, is the 
study of logic and the practice of working out its prob- 
lems and examples. The study of philosophy and psy- 
cihology also is useful in this way. Many lawyers and 
"fceachers have drilled themselves in geometry solely for 
"the purpose of developing their logical reasoning powers. 
Brooks says: "So valuable is geometry as a disci- 
X>line that many lawyers and others review their geom- 
etry every year in order to keep the mind drilled to 
Xogical habits of thinking. ♦ ♦ ♦ The study of logic 
"^ill aid in the development of the power of deductive 
a*easoning. It does this, first, by showing the method 
ly which we reason. To know how we reason, to see 
"the laws which govern the reasoning process, to analyze 
the syllogism and see its conformity to the laws of 
thought, is not only an exercise of reasoning but gives 
that knowledge of the process that will be both a stim- 
ulus and a guide to thought. No one can trace the 
principles and processes of thought without receiving 
thereby an impetus to thought. In the second place, 
the study of logic is probably even more valuable because 
it gives practice in deductive thinking. This, perhaps. 


is its principal value, since the mind reasons instinc- 
tively without knowing how it reasons. One can think 
without the knowledge of the science of thinking just 
as one can use language correctly without a knowledge 
of grammar; yet as the study of granmiar improves 
one^s speech, so the study of logic can but improve one's 

In the opinion of the writer hereof, one of the best 
though simple methods of cultivating the faculties of 
reasoning is to acquaint one's self thoroughly with the 
more common fallacies or forms of false reasoning — so 
thoroughly that not only is the false reasoning detected 
at once but also the reason of its falsity is readily 
imderstood. To understand the wrong ways of reason- 
ing is to be on guard against them. By guarding 
against them we tend to eliminate them from our 
thought processes. If we eliminate the false we have 
the true left in its place. Therefore we recommend the 
weeding of the logical garden of the common fallacies, 
to the end that the flowers of pure reason may flourish 
in their stead. Accordingly, we think it well to call 
your attention in the next chapter to the more common 
fallacies, and the reason of their falsity. 


Fflillflicious Reeisoning. 

A FALLACY is defined as "an unsound argu- 
ment or mode of arguing which, while appear- 
ing to be decisive of a question, is in reality 
not so; or a fallacious statement or proposition in which 
the error is not readily apparent. When a fallacy is 
used to deceive others, it is called ^sophistry.' '^ It is 
important that the student should understand the na- 
ture of the fallacy and understand its most common 
forms. As Jevons says : "In learning how to do right 
it is always desirable to be informed as to the ways in 
which we are likely to go wrong. In describing to a 
man the road which he should follow, we ought to tell 
him not only the turnings which he is to take but also 
the turnings which he is to avoid. Similarly, it is a 
useful part of logic which teaches us the ways and 
turnings by which people most commonly go astray in 

In presenting the following brief statement regarding 
the more common forms of fallacy, we omit so far as 
possible the technical details which belong to text-books 
on logic. 



I. True Collective hut False Particular. — ^An exam- 
ple of this fallacy is found in the argument that because 
the French race, collectively, are excitable, therefore 
a particular Frenchman must be excitable. Or that 
because the Jewish race, collectively, are good busi- 
ness people, therefore the particular Jew must be a 
good business man. This is as fallacious as arguing 
that because a man may drown in the ocean he should 
avoid the bath, basin, or cup of water. There is a vast 
difference between the whole of a thing and its separate 
parts. Ifitric acid and glycerin, separately, are not 
explosive, but, combined, they form nitro-glycerin, a 
most dangerous and powerful explosive. Reversing this 
form of illustration, we remind you of the old saying: 
"Salt is a good thing; but one doesn't want to be put in 

II. Irrelevant Conclusion. — ^This fallacy consists in 
introducing in the conclusion matter not contained in 
the premises, or in the confusing of the issue. For 
instance: (1) All men are sinful; (2) John Smith is 
a man; therefore (3) John Smith is a horse thief. 
This may sound absurd, but many arguments are as 
fallacious as this, and for the same reason. Or an- 
other and more subtle form: (1) All thieves are liars; 
(2) John Smith is a liar; therefore (3) John Smith 


16 a thief. The first example arises from the introduc- 
tion of new matter^ and the last from the confusion of 
the issue. 

III. Fahe Cause. — This fallacy consists in attrib- 
uting cause to a thing which is merely coincident with, 
or precedent to, the effect. For instance: (1) The 
cock crows just before or at the moment of sunrise; 
therefore (2) the cock-crowing is the cause of the sun- 
rise. Or, again: (1) Bad crops followed the election 
of a Whig president; therefore (2) the Whig party is 
the cause of the bad crops. Or, again: (1) Where 
civilization is the highest, there we find the greatest 
number of high hats; therefore (2) high hats are the 
cause of civilization. 

IV. Circular Reasoning. '—In this form of fallacy 
the person reasoning or arguing endeavors to explain 
or prove a thing by itself or its own terms. For in- 
stance: (1) The Whig party is honest because it advo- 
cates honest principles; (2) the Whig principles are 
honest because they are advocated by an honest party. 
A common form of this fallacy in its phase of sophistry 
is the use of synonyms in such a manner that they seem 
to express more than the original conception, whereas 
they are really but other terms for the same thing. An 
historic example of circular reasoning is the following : 
(1) The Church of England is the true Church, because 


it was established by Qod; (2) it must have been estab- 
lished by God, because it is the true Church. This form 
of sophistry is most eflfective when employed in long 
arguments in which it is diflBcult to detect it. 

V. Begging the Question. — ^This fallacy arises from 
the use of a false premise, or at least of a premise the 
truth of which is not admitted by the opponent. It 
may be stated, simply, as 'Hhe unwarranted assumption 
of a premise, generally the major premise/' Many 
persons in public life argue in this way. They boldly 
assert an unwarranted premise, and then proceed to 
argue logically from it. The result is confusing to the 
average person, for, the steps of the reasoning being 
logical, it seems as if the argument is sound, the fact 
of the unwarranted premise being overlooked. The 
person using this form of sophistry proceeds on Aaron 
Burr's theory of truth being "that which is boldly 
asserted and plausibly maintained." 

Bulwer makes one of his characters mention a par- 
ticularly atrocious form of this fallacy (although an 
amusing one) in the following words : "Whenever you 
are about to utter something astonishingly false, always 
begin with: ^It is an acknowledged fact,' etc. Sir 
Robert Filmer was a master of this manner of writing. 
Thus with what a solemn face that great man attempted 
to cheat. He would say: ^It is a truth undeniable 


that there cannot be any multitude of men whatsoever, 
either great or small, etc., but that in the siame multi- 
tude there is one man among them that in nature hath 
a right to he King of all the rest — as being the next 
heir of Adam!"* 

Look carefully for the major premise of propositions 
advanced in argument, spoken or written. Be sure that 
the person making the proposition is not "begging the 
question^^ by the unwarranted assumption of the prem- 

Genebal Rule op Inpebenob. 

Hyslop says concerning valid inferences and fallacious 
ones: *^e cannot infer anything we please from any 
premises we please. We must conform to certain defi- 
nite rules or principles. Any violation of them will be 
a fallacy. There are two simple rules which should not 
be violated: (1) The subject-matter in the conclusion 
should be of the same general hind as in the premises; 
(2) the facts constituting the premises must be accepted 
and must not be fictitious." A close observance of these 
rules will result in the detection and avoidance of the 
principal forms of fallacious reasoning and sophistry. 

Sophistical Akguments. 
There are a number of tricky practices resorted to by 
persons in argument, that are fallacious in intent and 


result^ which we do not consider here in detail as they 
scarcely belong to the particular subject of this book. 
A brief mention, however, may be permitted in the 
interest of general information. Here are the principal 
ones : — 

(1) Arguing that a proposition is correct because 
the opponent cannot prove the contrary. The fallacy 
is seen when we realize that the statement, "The moon 
is made of green cheese," is not proved because we can- 
not prove the contrary. No amount of failure to dis- 
prove a proposition really proves it ; and no amount of 
failure to prove a proposition really disproves it. As a 
general rule, the burden of proof rests upon the person 
stating the proposition, and his opponent is not called 
upon to disprove it or else have it considered proved. 
The old cry of "You cannot prove that it is not so'* 
is based upon a fallacious conception. 

(2) Abuse of the opponent, his party, or his cause. 
This is no real argument or reasoning. It is akin to 
proving a point by beating the opponent over the head. 

(3) Arguing that an opponent does not live up to 
his principles is no argument against the principles he 
advocates. A man may advocate the principle of tem- 
perance and yet drink to excess. This simply proves 
that he preaches better than he practices ; but the truth 
of the principle of temperance is not aflfected in any 


way thereby. The proof of this is that he may change 
his practices; and it cannot be held that the change of 
his personal habits improves or changes the nature of 
the principle. 

(4) Argument of authority is not based on logic. 
Authority is valuable when really worthy, and merely 
as corroboration or adding weight; but it is not logical 
argument. The reasons of the authority alone consti- 
tute a real argument. The abuse of this form of argu- 
ment is shown, in the above reference to "begging the 
question,*' in the quotation from Bulwer. 

(5) Appeal to prejudice or public opinion is not a 
valid argument, for public opinion is frequently wrong 
and prejudice is often unwarranted. And, at the best, 
they **have nothing to do with the case'* from the stand- 
point of logic. The abuse of testimony and claimed 
evidence is also worthy of examination, but we cannot 
go into the subject here. 

Fallacies op Peejudicb. 

But perhaps the most dangerous of all fallacies in 
the search for truth on the part of the most of us are 
those which arise from the following : — 

(1) The tendency to reason from what we feel and 
wish to be true, rather than from the actual facts of the 
case, which causes us unconsciously to assume the men- 


tal attitude of "if the facts agree with our likes and 
pet theories, all is well; if they do not, so much the 
worse for the facts." 

(2) The tendency in all of ns to perceive only the 
facts that agree with our theories and to ignore the 
others. We find that for which we seek, and overlook 
that which does not interest us. Our discoveries fol- 
low our interest, and our interest follows our desires 
and beliefs. 

The intelligent man or woman realizes these tenden- 
cies of human nature and endeavors to avoid them in 
his or her own reasoning, but is keenly conscious of 
them in the arguments and reasoning of others. A 
failure to observe and guard one's self against these 
tendencies results in bigotry, intolerance, narrowness, 
and intellectual astigmatism. 

The Will. 

THE activities of the will comprise the third great 
class of mental processes. Psychologists always 
have diflfered greatly in their conception of just 
what constitutes these activities. Even to-day it is diflS- 
cult to obtain a dictionary definition of the will that 
agrees with the best opinion on the subject. The dic- 
tionaries adhere to the old classification and conception 
which regarded the will as "that faculty of the mind 
or soul by which it chooses or decides." But with 
the growth of the idea that the will acts according to the 
strongest motive, and that the motive is supplied by the 
average struck between the desires of the moment, un- 
der the supervision of the intellect, the conception of 
will as the choosing and deciding faculty is passing from 
favor. In the place of the older conception has come 
the newer one which holds that the will is primarily 
concerned with action. 

It is difficult to place the will in the category of 
mental processes. But it is generally agreed that it 
abides in the very center of the mental being, and is 
closely associated with what is called the ego, or self. 


The wUl seems to have at least three general phases, 
viz.: (1) The phase of desire, (2) the phase of delib- 
eration or choice, and (3) the phase of expression in 
action. In order to understand the will, it is necessary 
to consider each of these three phases of its activities. 

(1). Desire. 

The first phase of will, which is called "desire,^^ is in 
itself somewhat complex. On its lower side it touches, 
and, in fact, blends into, feeling and emotion. Its cen- 
ter consists of a state of tension, akin to that of a coiled 
spring or a cat crouching ready for a spring. On its 
higher side it touches, penetrates, and blends into the 
other phases of the will which we have mentioned. 

Desire is defined as "a feeling, emotion, or excitement 
of the mind directed toward the attainment, enjoyment, 
or possession of some object from which pleasure, profit, 
or gratification is expected.^' Halleck gives us the fol- 
lowing excellent conception of the moving spirit of 
desire : ^'Desire has for its olject something which will 
iring pleasure or get rid of pain, immediate or remote, 
for the individual or for some one in whom he is inter- 
ested. Aversion, or a striving away from something, is 
merely the negative aspect of desire." 

In Halleck^s statement, above quoted, we have the 
explanation of the part played by the intellect in the ac- 


Uvities of will. The intellect is able to perceive the 
^lations between present action and future resnltfi^ and 
is able to point the way toward the suppression of some 
deaires in order that other and better ones may be mani- 
fested. It also serves its purposes in regulating the 
^'striking of the average" between conflicting desires. 
Without the intervention of the intellect, the temporary 
desire of the moment would invariably be acted upon 
without regard to future results or consequences to one's 
^If and others. It also serves to point out the course 
^f action calculated to give the most satisfactory expres- 
sion of the desire. 

While it is a fact that the action of will depends 
almost entirely upon the motive force of desire, it is 
likewise true that desire may be created, regulated, sup- 
X^ressed, and even killed by the action of the will. The 
Vrill, by giving or refusing attention to a certain class 
^f desires, may either cause them to grow and wax 
strong, or else die and fade away.. It must be remem- 
l)ered, however, that this use of the will itself springs 
irom another set of desires or feelings. 

Desire is aroused by feelings or emotions rising from 
the subconscious planes of the mind and seeking expres- 
sion and manifestation. We have considered the nature 
of the feelings and emotions in previous chapters, which 
should be read in connection with the present one. It 


should be remembered that the feeling or emotional side 
of desire arises from either inherited race memories 
existing as instincts^ or from the memory of the 
past experiences of the individual. In some cases the 
feeling first manifests in a vague unrest caused by 
subconscious promptings and excitement. Then the 
imagination pictures the object of the feeling, or certain 
memory images connected with it, and the desire thus 
manifests on the plane of consciousness. 

The entrance of the desire feeling into consciousness 
is accompanied by that peculiar tension which marks 
the second phase of desire. This tension, when suffi- 
ciently strong, passes into the third phase of desire, or 
that in which desire blends into will action. Desire in 
this stage makes a demand upon will for expression and 
action. Prom mere feeling, and tension of feeling, it 
becomes a call to action. But before expression and 
action are given to it, the second phase of will must 
manifest at least for a moment; this second phase is 
that known as deliberation, or the weighing and bal- 
ancing of desires. 

(2). Deliberation. 
The second phase of will, known as deliberation, is 
more than the purely intellectual process which the term 
would indicate. The intellect plays an important part. 


it is true^ but there is also an almost instinctive and 
automatic weighing and balancing of desires. There is 
seldom only one desire presenting its claims upon the 
will at any particular moment. It is true that occa- 
sionally there arises an emotional desire of such dom- 
inant power and strength that it crowds out every other 
claimant at the bar of deliberation. But such instances 
are rare, and as a rule there are a host of rival claim- 
ants, each insisting upon its rights in the matter at 
issue. In the man of weak or undeveloped and un- 
trained intellect, the struggle is usually little more than 
a brief combat between several desires, in which the 
strongest at the moment wins. But with the develop- 
ment of intellect new factors arise and new forces are 
felt. Moreover, the mores complex one's emotional na- 
ture, and the greater the development of the higher 
forms of feeling, the more intense is the struggle of 
deliberation or the fight of the desires. 

We see, in Halleck's definition, that desire has not 
only the object of "bringing pleasure or getting rid of 
pain" for the individual, but that the additional element 
of the welfare of "some one in whom he is interested'* 
is added, which element is often the deciding factor. 
This element, of course, arises from the development 
and cultivation of one's emotional nature. In the same 
way we also see that it is not merely the immediate 


welfare of one's self or those in whom one is interested 
that speaks before the bar^ but also the more remote 
welfare. This consideration of future welfare depends 
upon the intellect and cultivated imagination under its 
control. Moreover, the trained intellect is able to dis- 
cover possible greater satisfaction in some course of 
action other than in the one prompted by the clamoring 
desire of the moment. This explains why the judg- 
ment and action of an intelligent man, as a rule, are far 
different from those of the unintelligent one; and also 
why a man of culture tends toward different action from 
that of the uncultured; and likewise, why the man of 
broad sympathies and high ideals acts in a different way 
from one of the opposite type. But the principle is ever 
the same — the feelings manifest in desire, the greatest 
ultimate satisfaction apparent at the moment is sought, 
and the strongest set of desires wins the day. 

Halleck's comment on this point is interesting. He 
says: "Desire is not always proportional to the idea 
of one's own selfish pleasure. Many persons, after form- 
ing an idea of the vast amount of earthly distress, 
desire to relieve it, and the desire goes out in action, as 
the benevolent societies in every city testify. Here the 
individual pleasure is none the less, but it is secondary, 
coming from the pleasure of others. The desire of the 
near often raises a stronger desire than the remote. A 


chad frequently prefers a thing immediately if it is 
only one tenth as good as something he might have a 
year hence. A student often desires more the leisure 
of to-day than the success of future years. Though 
admonished to study^ he wastes his time and thus loses 
incomparably greater future pleasure when he is tossed 
to the rear in the struggle for existence." 

The result of this weighing and balancing of the 
desire is, or should be, decision and choice, which then 
passes into action. But many persons seem unable to 
'^make up their own mind," and require a push or urge 
from without before they will act. Others decide, with- 
out proper use of the intellect, upon what they call 
^'impulse," but which is merely impatience. Some are 
like the fabled donkey which starved to death when 
placed at an equal distance between two equally at- 
tractive haystacks and was unable to decide towards 
which to move. Others follow the example of Jeppe, in 
the comedy, who, when given a coin with which to buy 
a piece of soap for his wife, stood on the comer delib- 
erating whether to obey orders or to buy a drink with 
the money. He wants the drink, but realizes that his 
wife will beat him if he returns without the soap. "My 
stomach says drink; my back says soap," says Jeppe. 
"But," finally he remarks, "is not a man's stomach 
more to him than his back? Yes, says I." 


The final decision depends upon the striking a bal- 
ance between the desires, — ^the weighing of desire for 
and desire against, — desire for this and desire for some- 
thing else. The strength of the several desires depends 
upon nearness and present interest arising from atten- 
tion, as applied to the feelings and emotions arising 
from heredity, environment, experience, and education, 
which constitute character; and also upon the degree of 
intellectual clearness and power in forming correct 
judgments between the desires. 

It must be remembered, however, that the intellect 
appears not as an opponent of the principle of the satis- 
faction of desire, but merely as an instrument of the 
ego in determining which course of action will result 
in the greatest ultimate satisfaction, direct or indirect, 
present or future. For, at the last, every individual 
acts so as to bring himself the greatest satisfaction, 
immediate or future, direct or indirect, either personal 
or through the welfare of others, as this may appear to 
him at the particular moment of deliberation. We al- 
ways act in the direction of that which will greater 
"content our spirit." This will be found to be the spirit 
of all decisions, although the motive is often hidden and 
difficult to find even by the individual himself, many of 
the strongest motives having their origin in the subcon- 
scious planes of mentality. 


(3). Action. 

The third and final phase of will is that known as 
action — ^the act of volition by which the desire-idea is 
expressed in physical or mental activity. The old con- 
ception of the will held that the decisive phase of the 
will was its characteristic and final phase, ignoring the 
fact that the very essence or spirit of will is bound up 
with action. Even those familiar with the newer con- 
ception frequently assume that the act of decision is 
the final phase of will, ignoring the fact that we fre- 
quently decide to do a thing and yet may never carry 
out the intention and decision. The act of willing is 
not complete unless action is expressed. There must be 
the manifestation of the motor element or phase of will, 
else the will process is incomplete. 

A weakness of this last phase of will affects the entire 
will and renders its processes ineffective. The world is 
filled with persons who are able to decide what is best 
to do, and what should be done, but who never actually 
act upon the decision. The few persons who promptly 
follow up the decision with vigorous action are those 
who accomplish the world^s work. Without the full 
manifestation of this third phase of will the other two 
phases are useless. 

Types of Will. 
So far we have considered merely the highest type 


of will — ^that which is accompanied by conscious delib- 
eration^ in which the intellect takes an active part. In 
this process^ not only do the conflicting feelings push 
themselves forward with opposing claims for recogni- 
tion^ but the intellect is active in examining the case 
and offering valuable testimony as to the comparative 
merits of the various claimants and the effect of certain 
courses of action upon the individual. There are, how- 
ever, several lower forms of will manifestation which we 
should briefly consider in passing. 

Reflex Action, — The will is moved to action by the 
reflex activities of the nervous system which have been 
mentioned in the earlier chapters of this book. In this 
general type we find unconscious reflex action, such as 
that manifested when a sleeper is touched and moves 
away, or when the frog's leg twitches when the nerve 
end is excited. We also find conscious reflex action, 
such as that manifested by the winking of the eye, or 
the performance of habitual physical motion, such as the 
movement in walking, operating the sewing machine or 
typewriter, playing the piano, etc. 

Impulsive Action, — The will is often moved to action 
by a dim idea or faint perception of purpose or impulse. 
The action is almost instinctive, although there is a 
vague perception of purpose. For instance, we feel an 
impulse to turn toward the source of a strange sound or 


sight, or other source of interest or curiosity. Or we 
may feel an impulse arising from the subconscious 
plane of our mind, causing a dimly-conscious idea of 
movement or action to relieve the tension. For instance, 
one may feel a desire to exercise, or to seek fresh air or 
green fields, although he had not been thinking of these 
things at the time. These impulses arise from a sub- 
conscious feeling of fatigue or desire for change, which, 
added to a fleeting idea, produces the impulse. Unless 
an impulse is inhibited by the will activities inspired 
by other desires, habits, ideas, or ideals, we act upon 
it in precisely the same way that a young child or ani- 
mal does. Hoffding says of this type of action : "The 
psychological condition of the impulse is, that with the 
momentary feeling and sensation should be combined a 
more or less clear idea of something which may aug- 
ment the pleasure or diminish the pain of the moment." 
Instinctive Action, — ^The will is frequently moved to 
action by an instinctive stimulus. This form of will ac- 
tivity closely resembles the last mentioned form, and 
often it is impossible to distinguish between the two. 
The activities of the bee in building its comb and storing 
its honey, the work of the silkworm and caterpillar in 
building their resting places, are examples of this form 
of action. Indeed, even the building of the nest of the 
bird may be so classed. In these cases there is an intel- 


ligent action toward a definite end^ but the animal is 
unconscious of that end. The experiences of the remote 
ancestors of these creatures recorded their impressions 
upon the subconscious mind of the species, and they are 
transmitted in some way to all of that species. The 
nervous system of every living thing is a record cylinder 
of the experiences of its early ancestors, and these cyl- 
inders tend to reproduce these impressions upon appro- 
priate occasions. In preceding chapters we have shown 
that even man is under the influence of instinct to a 
greater extent than he imagines himself to be. 



IT is of the utmost importance that the individual 
develop, cultivate, and train his will so as to 
bring it under the influence of the higher part of 
his mental and moral being. While the will is used 
most effectively in developing and training the intel- 
lect and building character, it itself must be trained 
by itself to habitually come under the guidance of the 
intellect and under the influence of that which we call 

The influence of the trained will upon the several 
mental faculties is most marked. There are no facul- 
ties which may not be cultivated by the will. The first 
and great task of the will in this direction is the control 
and direction of the attention. The will determines the 
kind of interest that shall prevail at the moment, and 
the kind of interest largely determines the character of 
the man, his tastes, his feelings, his thoughts, his acts. 
Gordy says; "Cooperating with a pre-existing influ- 
ence, the will can make a weaker one prevail over a 
stronger. ♦ ♦ ♦ It determines which of pre-existing 
influences shall have control over the mind." 


Moreover, concentrated and continued attention de^ 
pendB entirely upon the exercise of the will. As Gk)rdj 
says: ^T,t the will relaxes its hold upon the activities 
of the mind, the attention is liable to be carried away 
by any one of the thousands of ideas that the laws oi 
association are constantly bringing into our minds/' 

Even in the matter of mental images the will asserts 
its sway, and the imagination may be trained to be the 
obedient servant of the developed will. Regarding the 
influence of the will upon character, Davidson says: 
"It is not enough for a man to understand correctly and 
love duly the conditions of moral life in his own time ; 
he must, still further, be willing and able to fulfill these 
conditions. And he certainly cannot do this imless his 
will is trained to perfect freedom, so that it responds, 
with the utmost readiness, to the suggestions of his 
discriminating intelligence and the movements of his 
chastened aflfections." Halleck says: "We gradually 
make our characters by separate acts of will, just as a 
blacksmith by repeated blows beats out a horseshoe or an 
anchor from a shapeless mass of iron. A finished an- 
chor or horseshoe was never the product of a single 

Training the Will. 

Perhaps the best way to train the will is to tise it 
intelligently, and with a purpose. The training of any 


faculty of the mind is at the same time a training of 
the will. The attention being so closely allied to the 
will, it follows that a careful training of attention will 
result in a strengthening of the will. The training of 
the emotional side of one's nature also brings results 
in the strengthening of the will. 

Halleck gives his students excellent advice regarding 
the training of the will. It would be hard to find any- 
thing better along these lines than the following from 
his pen: ^^Nothing schools the will, and renders it 
ready for effort in this complex world, better than 
accustoming it to face disagreeable things. Professor 
James advises all to do somethiQg occasionally for no 
other reason than that they would rather not do it, if it 
is nothing more than giving up a seat in a street car. 
He likens such effort to the iQsurance that a man pays 
on his house. He has something that he can fall back 
on in time of trouble. A will schooled in this way is, 
always ready to respond, no matter how great the emer- 
gency. While another would be crying over spilled 
milk, the possessor of such a will has already found 
another cow. * * * The only way to secure such a will 
is to practice doing disagreeable things. There are 
daily opportunities. * * * A man who had declared his 
aversion to what he deemed the dry facts of political 
economy was one day found knitting his brow over a 


chapter of John Stuart Mill. When a friend expressed 
surprise, the man replied: ^I am playing the school- 
master with myself. I am reading this because I dislike 
it.' Such a man has the elements of success in him. 
♦ * * On the other hand, the one who habitually avoids 
disagreeable action is training his will to be of no use 
to him at a time when supreme effort is demanded. 
Such a will can never elbow its way to the front in 


Habits are the beaten track over which the will trav- 
els. The beaten path of habit is the line of least resist- 
ance to the will. One who would train his will must 
needs pay attention to providing it with the proper 
mental paths over which to travel. The rule for the 
creation of habits is simply this : Travel over the men- 
tal path as often as possible. The rule for breaking 
undesirable habits is this : Cultivate the opposite hahit. 
In these two rules is expressed the gist of what has been 
written on the subject. 

Professor William James has left to the world some 
invaluable advice regarding the cultivation of right 
habits. He bases his rules upon those of Professor 
Bain, elaborates these, and adds some equally good ones. 
We herewith quote freely from both James and Bain 


on this subject; it is the best ever written regarding 
habit building. 

I. "In the acquisition of a new habit, or the leaving 
oflf of an old one, launch yourself with as strong and 
decided an initiative as possible. This will give your 
new beginning such a momentum that the temptation 
to break down will not occur as soon as it otherwise 
might; and every day during which a breakdown is 
postponed adds to the chances of it not occurring at 
sXV^ — James. 

II. "Never suflfer an exception to occur till the new 
habit is securely rooted in your life. Every lapse is like 
the letting fall of a ball of string which one is carefully 
winding up — ^a single slip undoes more than a great 
many turns will wind again." — James, "It is neces- 
sary, above all things, in such a situation, never to lose 
a battle. Every gain on the wrong side undoes the 
effect of many conquests on the right. The essential 
precaution is so to regulate the two opposing powers 
that the one may have a series of uninterrupted suc- 
cesses, until repetition has fortified it to such a degree 
as to enable it to cope with the opposition, under any 
circumstances." — Bain. 

III. "Seize the very first possible opportunity to act 
on every resolution you make, and on every emotional 
prompting you may experience in the direction of the 


habits you aspire to gain. It is not in the moment of 
their forming, but in the moment of their producing 
motor effects, that resolves and aspirations communicate 
their new ^set^ to the brain/* — James. "The actual 
presence of the practical opportunity alone furnishes 
the fulcrum upon which the lever can rest, by which 
the moral will may multiply its strength and raise itself 
aloft. He who has no solid ground to press against will 
never get beyond the stage of empty gesture making/* 
— Bain. 

IV. "Keep the faculty alive in you by a little gratu- 
itous exercise every day. That is, be systematically 
ascetic or heroic in little, unnecessary points; do every 
day something for no other reason than that you would 
rather not do it, so that when the hour of dire need 
draws nigh, it may find you not unnerved and untrained 
to stand the test. * * * The man who has daily inured 
himself to habits of concentrated attention, energetic 
volition, and self-denial in imnecessary things will stand 
like a tower when everything rocks around him, and 
when his softer fellow mortals are winnowed like chaff 
in the blast.**— Jamea. 



IN addition to the general rules for developing and 
training the will given in the preceding chapter, 
we ask you to tone up and strengthen the will by 
the inspiration to be derived from the words of some of 
the world's great thinkers and doers. In these words 
there is such a vital statement of the recognition, real- 
ization, and manifestation of that something within, 
which we call ^Vill,'' that it is a dull soul, indeed, which 
is not inspired by the contagion of the idea. These 
expressions are the milestones on the Path of Attain- 
•iaent, placed by those who have preceded us on the 
journey. We submit these quotations without com^ 
ment; they speak for themselves. 

Words op the Wise. 

'TThey can who think they can. Character is a per- 
fectly educated will.** 

"Nothing can resist the will of a man who knows 
what is true and wills what is good.** 

"In all difficulties advance and will, for within you 


is a power, a living force, which the more you trust and 
learn to use will annihilate the opposition of matter." 

"The star of the unconquered will. 
It rises in my breast, 
Serene and resolute and still. 
And calm and self-possessed. 

"So nigh is grandeur to our dust. 

So near is God to man. 
When duty whispers low, Thou must T 
The youth replies, 'I can !^ " 

"The longer I live, the more certain I am that the 
great difference between men, between the feeble and 
the powerful, the great and the insignificant, is en- 
ergy, — invincible determination, — a purpose once fixed, 
and then death or victory. That quality will do any- 
thing that can be done in this world, and no talents, 
no circumstances, no opportunities will make a two- 
legged creature a man without it." — Buxton. 

"The human will, that force unseen, 
The offspring of a deathless soul. 
Can hew a way to any goal. 
Though walls of granite intervene. 


^^You will be what you will to be; 
Let failure find its false content 
In that poor word environment. 
But spirit scorns it and is free. 

"It masters time, it conquers space, 
It cows that boastful trickster, chance, 
And bids the tyrant circumstance 
Uncrown and fill a servant's place/' 

^Tlesolve is what makes a man manifest; not puny 
resolve, not crude determinations, not errant purpose, 
but that strong and indefatigable will which treads 
>^wn difficulties and danger as a boy treads down the 
heiiving frost lands of winter, which kindles his eye and 
brain with a proud pulse beat toward the unattainable. 
Will makes men giants/' — Donald 0. Mitchell. 

"There is no chance, no destiny, no fate 
Can circumvent, or hinder, or control 
The firm resolve of a determined soul. 
Gifts count for nothing, will alone is great; 
All things give way before it soon or late. 
What obstacle can stay the mighty force 
Of the sea-seeking river in its course. 
Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait ? 
Each well-born soul must win what it deserves. 


Let the fools prate of luck. The fortunate 
Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves. 
Whose slightest action, or inaction. 
Serves the one great aim. Why, even death itself 
Stands still and waits an hour sometimes 
For such a will/^ 

—Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

^1 have brought myself by long meditation to the 
conviction that a human being with a settled purpose 
must accomplish it, and that nothing can resist a will 
which will stake even existence upon its fulfillment." 
— Lord Beaconsfield. 

^^A passionate desire and an unwearied will can per- 
form impossibilities, or what may seem to be such to the 
cold and feeble." — Sir John Simpson. 

^^It is wonderful how even the casualties of life seem 
to bow to a spirit that will not bow to them, and yield 
to subserve a design which they may, in their first 
apparent tendency, threaten to frustrate. When a fijm, 
decisive spirit is recognized, it is curious to see how the 
space clears around a man and leaves him room and 
freedom."— JoAn Foster, 

"The great thing about General Grant is cool per- 
sistency of purpose. He is not easily excited, and he 
has got the grip of a bulldog. When he once gets his 


teeth in, nothing can shake him oflf." — Abraham Lin- 

"I am bigger than anything that can happen to me. 
All these things are outside my door, and I've got the 
hey. * * * Man was meant to be, and ought to be, 
stronger and more than anything that can happen to 
him. Circumstances, Tate,' Tjuck,* are all outside; 
and if he cannot change them, he can always beat 
them/' — Charles F, Lummis. 

"The truest wisdom is a resolute determination.'' 

"Impossible is a word found only in the dictionary 
of fools." 

"Circumstances ! I maJce circumstances !" — Napoleon. 

"He who fails only half wills." — Suwarrow. 

"That which the easiest becomes a habit in us is the 
will. Learn, then, to will strongly and decisively; thus 
fix your floating life, and leave it no longer to be car- 
ried hither and thither, like a withered leaf, by every 
wind that blows." 

"Man owes his growth chiefly to that active striving 
of the will, — that encounter which we call effort, — and 
it is astonishing to find how often results apparently 
impracticable are thus made possible. * * * It is will — 
force of purpose — that enables a man to do or be what- 
ever he sets his mind upon being or doing." 

"A strong, defiant purpose is many-handed and lays 


hold of whatever is near that can serve it; it has a 
magnetic purpose that draws to itself whatever is kin- 
dred. ♦ ♦ ♦ Let it be your first study to teach the 
world that you are not wood and straw; that there is 
some iron in you/' — Hunger. 

"It's dogged as does it." — Yorkshire Proverb. 

"One talent with a will behind it will accomplish 
more than ten without it, as a thimbleful of powder in 
a rifle, the bore of whose barrel will give it direction, 
will do greater execution than a carload burned in the 
open air." — 0. S. Harden. 

"Will may not endow man with talents or capacities ; 
but it does one very important matter — ^it enables him 
to make the best, the very best, of his powers.'' — 

"Tender-handed stroke a nettle. 
And it stings you for your pains. 
Grasp it like a man of mettle, 
And it soft as down remains." 

"Don't flinch; don't foul; but hit the line hard."— 

"The more diflSculties one has to encounter, within 
and without, the more significant and the higher in 
inspiration his life will be." 

^ ^